


Loyalty

by LoveisYonduBlue



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 77,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveisYonduBlue/pseuds/LoveisYonduBlue
Summary: A look at Kraglin's life, his rise to First Mate, and his relationship with Yondu Udonta and Peter Quill.





	1. The Culling

Knowhere. One of the seediest, most dangerous places in the galaxy. And, as it happens, one of the best places to broker a profitable deal.

That’s what brought Yondu Udonta here with his crew. It’s the biggest job he’s had since breaking off from Stakar’s clan and coming into his own. Everything is going according to plan. He’s got the details on the heist: where to enter, how many guards there will be, the necessary tools – the whole shebang. He swaggers confidently back in the general direction of the _Eclector._ One by one his crew has split off to bars and brothels until it’s just Horuz and Half-Nut tagging along behind him. Yondu pauses, watching as a new model of sexbot passes by on the arm of a drunk. He grins after her, wondering just where he can get a piece of _that_ when the noise of a crowd diverts his attention.

Turning, he sees a makeshift fighting ring with a crowd gathered in small pockets in front of it. Milling inside the perimeter of the ring are Skrulls. Yondu scowls in their direction. Next to the Kree, they’ve got the biggest slave industry in the galaxy.

As he watches, one of the Skrulls pushes a Xandarian boy into the ring. He's 12, maybe 14 years old, but it's hard to tell. He's tall, but skinny with lanky arms and legs that he doesn't quite seem to fit into. His back is crisscrossed with scars, lashes stand out a faded blue on the high end of his back. His head his shaved bald, covered in scabs and bruises.

Yondu's gut roils, his hands clench until his fingernails dig painfully into his palms. He doesn't want to stay and watch, but his feet have taken root where he stands.

Another slave is put into the ring, and he realizes what this is. It's a culling. They're sorting out the strongest slaves from the rest - for use in battle, labor or gods know what else. He swallows involuntarily as the Xandarian’s opponent approaches - the boy's a goner. But to Yondu's surprise, blow after blow hits its mark, and opponent after opponent goes down at the boy's hands.

That is, until a huge Baluurian slave is pushed into the ring. 

He’s older than the Xandarian, and about three times his size, with hands as big as the boy’s head. The Xandarian falters back a step, wipes his brow, and charges. He lands some good hits, even gets the Baluurian down to his knees, but he's fought four other opponents already, and the Baluurian is fresh.

The boy makes one simple mistake - his foot slides just a little too far on landing, throws him off balance just enough for the Baluurian to land a rib-crushing blow to the side. The boy cries out, blue blood spurting from his mouth, and falls to the ground. The Baluurian twists the boy’s arm behind him, forcing his face into the dirt, and hovers his foot over his skull. Just before he stomps down, the Skrulls enter the ring and pull him off.

They don't make a move to help the boy up. They kick him in the sides instead and spit some of their ugly language into his face. He struggles to get up, shouting back; they pull out prods and send electric currents racing over his body until he's too spent to rise. 

They say something to one another, and one snaps his fingers. 

The boy makes one last effort, gets to his knees, and clutches the nearest Skrull's leg. Even from this distance, Yondu can see the tears streaming down his face, but can’t hear what he’s saying. But whatever words are spoken, he can tell the boy is begging. 

The lead Skrull pulls a smaller Xandarian girl into the ring, and upon seeing the boy, she reaches her arms towards him. He struggles against his captors, stretching his hands for her, but he's held back forcefully, prods at his throat. The head slaver pulls out a curved knife.

Yondu sees what's about to happen, wills his feet to move, but he can't possibly reach her in time. 

The Skrull drags the knife across the girl's throat and she drops like a stone.

Yondu's witnessed a lot of terrible noises in his lifetime, especially from his time under the Kree. Noises of pain, fear, death. But the scream that comes out of the boy's mouth is the most horrific sound he's ever heard.

It makes his blood run cold, shakes his very bones, transforms every bit of his skin into prickling goose-flesh. He wants to clap his hands over his ears, run far away from it - but what he sees next is beyond imagination and he can't look away.

By all rights, every bit of the boy's strength should be gone - wiped out from his matches, beatings and the electrocution he’s received.

But he flings himself upon the Skrulls like a demon straight from hell.

He beats with his fists, claws with broken nails, kicks, bites wherever he can get his mouth. He gets his arms around the throat of one of the slavers, and with jerk so strong it should be impossible for someone his size, breaks the Skrull's neck. He's frothing at the mouth, eyes wild. The electric prods are doing nothing to stop him. The lead Skrull stabs him, but he might as well have been poking him with a feather, the way the boy reacts. Soon, his frail body is slick with his own blue blood and the green of the Skrulls.

Yondu feels his feet stepping forward, moving faster, faster until he's in a flat out run towards the boy. He's going to die unless Yondu does something, quick.

With a final scream, the last Skrull falls dead at the boy's hands. A sizeable crowd has formed, and there are several traders and slavers among them that are eyeing the boy with interest. Pursing his lips and emitting a shrill whistle, Yondu calls his Yaka arrow to life. It streaks through the crowd like a red bolt of lightning. "Y'all back up," he growls. The arrow spins, hovers, twitches at anyone who makes a sudden movement.

"What the hell is this?" a slaver in the crowd asks, raising a hand to swat the arrow out of his way. 

A piercing note from between Yondu's teeth, and the slaver's sporting a new hole in his head. "I said, _back th’ hell up!"_ Yondu roars, and within seconds no one is within a 20-foot radius of the ring, except him, Half-Nut and Horuz. Yondu leaps over the makeshift fence, and carefully approaches the boy, stepping over the twisted and mangled corpses of the Skrulls.

There are dozens of wounds across the boy's frame, most of them bleeding freely. But he doesn't seem to care. He cradles the girl's lifeless body in his arms, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. 

Yondu takes off his coat and lays it lightly over the boy's shoulders. The boy flinches violently, his head jerks up at him. His eyes are blue-grey and the emptiness inside them pierce Yondu to his soul.

The Ravager holds up his hands, fingers spread to show that they’re empty. "It's ok, boy. Ain't gonna hurt ya."

There are no tears on his face now, though he continues to tremble. He says nothing, then seems to decide that Yondu is not a threat; he turns his hollow gaze back to the girl. Part of the Ravager wonders if the boy even saw him at all. Yondu watches as he traces the girl’s face with a finger, bends to kiss her forehead. Then slowly, he crumples into a heap over her body.

Yondu bends to touch him, but he doesn't respond. Turning him over, Yondu finds that the boy's eyes have rolled back into his head, and he's gone totally limp. The Ravager hefts the boy - who's even lighter than he looks - into his arms. He ignores the stares from his crew. "Back to the ship." He whistles, and the arrow follows them back to the  _Eclector,_  darting this way and that in their midst. 

* * *

 

 

Yondu strides into the med bay. "What's the verdict, doc?"

The resident medic, a Krylorian with grey in his beard, turns from the sink shaking his head. "I don't know how, but he's alive. He'll recover, but it'll take some time." He walks over to one of the screens that line one wall, where scans of the boy's body are projected. "Four broken ribs, a broken hand, broken nose, bruised kidney, sprained ankle, not to mention all the lacerations, bruises and broken teeth - and on top of all that, a concussion, dehydration and malnutrition."

"Shit." Yondu runs a hand over his face. "Where is he?"

"Right over here." The doctor leads him behind a screened partition, where the boy lies, hooked up with wires and monitors. A bone knitter is just finishing on the boy’s hooked nose, and retracts back into the headboard of the medical bed with a soft whir and a click.

Yondu notices that the boy’s wrists and ankles are strapped down, and begins to undo the ties.

"Erm, Captain?" the doc says warily.

"Why'd you do this?" Yondu growls.

"Well, after I heard about the situation - I thought it was a precaution I should take. He sounds unstable."

"Chains like this _made_ him unstable." Yondu's implant starts to pulse red. "He ain't gonna wear any kind a' restraints ever again. _Is that clear?"_  he barks, his teeth bared.

The doc stumbles back a step. "Yessir, Captain."

Yondu exhales deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself down. He glances down at the boy; his eyes move fretfully under their lids. One eye is swollen shut, dark blue and purple. "You got him on anythin' for the pain?" he asks after a couple moments.

"Yessir, but he's due for another dose. I'll be right back with that."

The doctor walks briskly away, and Yondu can hear him rummaging around in one of his cabinets. He leans down close to the boy's ear. "Look, I dunno if y'can hear me, boy, but listen up if ya can. Yer safe. Y'aint with those damn Skrulls no more. Doc's patchin' ya up, and yer gonna be..." he wants to say "fine" but from personal experience, he doubts that will ever be true. "Yer gonna get better," he says instead. 

The boy's eyelids flutter, and his one good eye opens, turning up to him. The monitor’s soft beeping picks up as his heart rate increases; his chest rises and falls quickly.

Yondu lays a light hand on his shoulder. "It's ok. Yer safe. Once yer healed up, I'll take ya wherever ya want ta go."

The boy's lips move, but Yondu can't quite hear him, so he cautiously leans an ear towards his mouth.

"Who are you?" the words come out in a faint breath.

Yondu cracks a smile, as gentle as he can manage. "Captain Yondu Udonta _._  You?" He leans down again, and repeats the name as it's breathed into his ear. "Kraglin…Obfon…Obfonteri. Well," he says, laying a gentle hand on the boy’s bald head, "Yer in good hands, kid."

Kraglin's eye rolls back, and his head falls to one side as the doctor administers a pain med.


	2. Slave Ship?

Kraglin drifts in and out of consciousness. He’s unable to tell what is reality and what is dream, every vision is plagued with Skrulls, whips, electric prods, and his sister – dead – amidst flurries of colors, shapes, and strange noises. When he’s semi-cognizant, his sight is blurred with bright lights, sometimes accompanied by the murmur of voices and soft beeping sounds. The pain is most excruciating then. His hands and face throb and ache; when he attempts movement, pain lances through every limb. It even hurts to breathe. When he’s the most wakeful, he always is aware of some sort of presence nearby – _a guard,_ he supposes – and his consciousness doesn’t last long. A brief pricking sensation in his neck or arm, and he passes out again.

He has no idea how much time passes as he lies there, in and out of pain, in and out of darkness and light. When at last he wakes, more fully aware than he can remember being in a long time, his eyes open to a quiet and softly lit room.

He lies still as he observes his surroundings. He lies on a cot suspended by anti-grav mechanics – a similar one hovers about five feet to his left, empty. A thin, stained white sheet covers him, just a little thicker than the gown he is wearing; there’s a heavier blanket covering the lower half of his body. The ceiling is a mishmash of metal plating, different sizes and shapes and colors, bolted into place. There are vents here and there throughout the ceiling, and lights, which are not on. The only light in the room comes from monitors behind him, which are most likely tracking his heart rate and blood pressure, and a blue glow from the floor. There’s no one in sight, and besides some creaking walls once and awhile and the soft beeping from the machines, there’s no noise.

Cautiously, he pushes himself up to get a better look around. He grinds his molars together as pain shoots through one of his hands, which is wrapped in bandages. He flexes it – a familiar soreness runs through his fingers. _Broken._ _Or, it was. Whoever owns me now healed it up._

 _Whoever owns me._ He frowns, trying to sort through memories of what was sleep-induced and what was not. He remembers the culling ring, the Skrull with the knife at Vara’s throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to forget the image. It gets fuzzy after that. He remembers screams, blood, the snapping of bones, and hazily recalls the figure of a blue-skinned man, leaning over him, and talking. _Was that real, or did I dream that up?_ _He told me his name…Yon somethin’?_ He shakes his head lightly. _Don’t matter. My new owner,_ he thinks with disdain. _Well not anymore. Ain’t gonna be a slave no more._   _Ain’t no point in goin’ on without Vara._ He grips the side rail of the cot, and is about to start tearing away the wires strapped to his chest when he pauses, looking up at the monitors. _Probably hooked up to some kind a’ alarm in case I try to escape._ Looking around, he sees a tray nearby. Upon it is a used empty bowl, a spoon alongside, leftover from someone’s dinner. Or breakfast. He can’t tell what time it is.

He leans over and grasps the spoon, panting slightly with exertion. Behind his head, he hears the monitors’ quiet beeping pick up in pace. Scooting up the bed, he slides the spoon into the casing at the back of the monitor where the wires disappear into, and disconnects the panel that houses them. He studies their paths, then he rips out one wire, and tears the patch from his chest. He freezes, waiting for an alarm, but he’s done his work right, and there’s no noise to be heard, no yelling voices or running footsteps.

Kraglin pushes back his covers, swings his long legs over the side of the cot, and lowers himself the short distance to the floor. The metal is cold on his bare feet, and sends a shiver through him. He clenches the spoon in his hand as a dull pain spreads through his left foot. Looking down, he sees a brace on it.

He takes a few steps forward, and the room spins. He leans against the next cot, and takes a couple deep breaths. His chest hurts when he does so, and he realizes that a couple of ribs must be bruised or broken. _C’mon, Kraglin. You gotta get outta here._ When he opens his eyes, the room is stable again. He moves slowly, spoon still held tight in his fist.

He makes his way to the door, and pushes the button to make it open. It stays shut. He pushes the button again more forcefully, but it the door remains closed. Must be locked from the outside. Using the spoon, he pries the control panel from the wall and finds the wires that lead to the door override. Dropping the spoon on the ground with a quiet clatter, he pulls them out, holds them ready to touch together to open the door. He pauses, and glances around at the cabinets and long counters that run the perimeter of the room. A little to his left is a sink. Glittering on a tray next to it is an array of surgical knives and scalpels. He chooses one of the latter, a thin blade with a longer reach. He holds it at the ready, in case he gets jumped when the door opens, since there are probably guards outside.

He touches the wires and the doors slide outward, retreating into the walls. He jumps back, scalpel thrust in front of him, but there’s no one charging in, no voices, not even one footfall. Cautiously, he peers into a narrow, dimly-lit hallway. The floor is grating, and pipes run forever in both directions, branching off into other hallways and corridors.

Holding tight to the scalpel, Kraglin makes his way through the structure, wondering exactly where he is – until he sees a window. He runs to it, and his heart sinks fast. Stars and nebulous clouds of space debris shine in his eyes as they go dancing by. _I’m on a ship_. _They aren’t my owners. They’re selling me._ His hand clenches tight around the scalpel. _Well I ain’t goin’ back. I’ve got to get off this ship somehow. And if I can’t…_ he looks down at the scalpel in his hand, and turns it in his fingers, swallowing.


	3. Airlocked

It’s been four days since they left Knowhere. It’s Third Watch on the _Eclector_ , and Yondu can’t sleep. He moves through the quiet ship. There’s only a skeleton crew at this time of the day-cycle; a few monitoring the engines and support systems, one or two piloting, a couple keeping an eye on the scanners for any unwanted company, plus anyone else who can’t sleep or just wants some peace and quiet.

The Captain’s aimless path takes him past the med bay; the doors are open. He stops at this; the doors are usually locked at night, and the doc should be asleep in his quarters next door. He enters the room; the lights are dimmed down, just a band of soft blue light at the floor. The medic isn’t anywhere to be seen.

Yondu peeks past the partition to check on the sleeping Xandarian boy, and starts. Wires hang loosely from the monitors, the sheets are shoved to one side; the bed is empty.

“Shit!”

Turning quickly back towards the exit, he notices the door control was pried from the door; it hangs from one corner. The wires are pulled out slightly and strung together so the that door was opened from the inside. A spoon lies on the floor underneath.

Yondu leaves the med bay in a trot. He’d wake the doctor, but there’s no point at the moment. He’s gotta find the kid before he either bleeds to death or stumbles into a group of Ravagers that will skin him alive for waking them from their rest.

He flies into the cockpit, startling two crew members who are passing the time with a game of cards. He doesn’t bother saying anything to them; a quick glance at the radar and out the main window confirms everything is ok to leave the ship on autopilot. His fingers run skillfully over the holograms that flicker into existence around his head. He pulls up every camera on the ship, skimming their feeds.

Engine room, cabins, mess hall, showers, armory, hangar, storage…everything looks clear. He flips past a screen, then hurriedly backtracks. He breaths a small sigh of relief. “There y’are.”

The boy’s skinny figure stands outside Airlock 2.

He clambers back down the stairwell at top speed, making his way in the boy’s direction. A shortcut through one of the common areas and down a short ladder between two walkways, and he’s there in a matter of a few minutes.

Kraglin’s hand drifts up towards the handle. His knowledge of airlocks is pretty limited, but he knows there's this inner door, then the outer door beyond, with a small room in between. He should be able to get inside, close the inner door, and open the outer door to let himself out into space. Of course, he could leave the inner door open - it would suck whoever's the immediate vicinity out, and they would probably deserve it.

Kraglin lowers his eyes. They haven't done anything to hurt him yet, so he won't do that. He grips the handle, and swallows, studying his faint reflection in the glass. He barely recognizes himself anymore - a gaunt, beaten and broken boy with no hair and half a mouth of teeth. And no sister. He takes a deep, gulping breath, readies himself to pull - and sees a reflection other than his own move in the window.

He whirls, fingers still gripped around the airlock handle, and thrusts the stolen scalpel before him.

It's the blue man from his dreams. 

Yondu jumps back slightly and holds up his hands. “Whoa. Easy, kid.”

Kraglin’s fingers curl tighter around the knife handle. “Get back.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, and Yondu sees him wince at the frail sound.

“Calm down.” Yondu looks him over. He’s covered in bandages; he sees some of the wounds have started to bleed through. He’s barefoot except for a brace on his left ankle, toes curled around the grating of the floor, and he’s wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns they’d found in a stolen Nova Corps hospital shipment.

“Get back,” Kraglin repeats, “Don’ want ya pulled out.”

Yondu stills as he realizes what the boy’s trying to do, and takes a few steps backwards.

Kraglin likewise backs up against the airlock door, scalpel still raised.

The Captain wants nothing more than to throw the kid over his shoulder and march him straight back to med bay, but that’s not going to work. It’s not that he’s afraid of the scalpel – he could easily disarm the kid, and he’s got his arrow if the boy’s fool enough to try something – no, it’s much more than that.

Yondu sees such a strong echo of himself Kraglin’s eyes. They’re so full of fear, regret, anger, and pain – he’s seen far too much at his young age. Yondu can guarantee he’s probably seen things that he has no business seeing – things that _adults_ should never have to witness, and done more, too – for pity’s sake, he killed four Skrulls with his bare hands. The full shock of it all probably hasn’t even set in yet. Yondu’s been where Kraglin is now, seeking a way out – and this seems like the only way to escape the harsh reality that he’s been forced into.

No, brute force isn’t going to work here. Yondu must convince him that what he’s thinking is a bad idea…or at least scare him enough into changing his mind.

“Plannin’ on goin’ out the airlock, eh?” Yondu begins conversationally. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “Y’know what happens to yer body out there?” He nods past the boy, out the circular windows of the airlock, into the depths of space.

Kraglin looks over his shoulder briefly, then back. He says nothing.

Yondu picks at a tooth with a dirty nail. “Well, if y’don’t breathe out when you get out there – if y’try to hold yer breath, yer lungs explode, and the air all escapes into yer blood, make yer veins pop. Real messy.” The boy’s eyes grow wider with every word. “If _y’do_ exhale, then y’expand yer life by oh, a minute or two tops. Yer body puffs up twice its size, and yer eyes and tongue start ta boil, and _then –_ ” he pauses for emphasis – “Ya start t’freeze over. I don’t know if ya’ve ever been dropped in ice water, but it’s much, much colder. Instant frostbite. Y’don’t last long after that. Pretty nasty stuff, I imagine it’s painful as hell. I wouldn’t want ta go that way.”

Kraglin swallows visibly, his Adams apple bobbing in his skinny neck, and his fingers slowly slip from the handle. He takes a step forward, glancing back nervously through the view port. 

Yondu comes forward a couple steps, and Kraglin's hand flies back up to the airlock handle at the sudden movement. He slams his back against the door, eyes wild. He swings the scalpel. "No, no! Yer tryin' to trick me! I ain't goin' back!"

Yondu stops, cocks his head to the side, threading his thumbs through his belt loops. "Goin' back where, boy?"

"To th' Skrulls. Y'aint puttin' me back in chains."

At this, Yondu's eyes flame, and he stoops a little so he can look the boy straight in the eyes. "Damn right I ain't. Y'aint goin' back to the Skrulls, boy. Y'aint a slave no more. Not on my ship."

Kraglin's eyes widen, and the hand holding the scalpel drops to his side. "W-what?"

Yondu raises an eyebrow. "What, ya been thinkin' this whole time that was takin' ya someplace to sell ya, or somethin? Hell no. Like I said, _not on my damn ship_.” He straightens up. “Yer free, boy."

Kraglin’s eyes grow even wider, searching Yondu’s for deception. "Yer...yer fully serious?"

Yondu smiles down at him. "Fully serious."

The boy eyes him suspiciously for a minute, then loosens his hold the airlock handle and comes forward. He flicks the scalpel so the blade end is tucked near his palm, and offers the handle to Yondu.

“Thatta boy.” Yondu approaches him slowly, and gingerly takes the scalpel out of his hand, sticking it in his coat pocket. He’s standing a little less than a foot from the boy; the top of his head is level with Yondu’s collarbone.

Kraglin’s eyes study his face without fear; his eyes rest on the scars on the right side of his face, rise up to study his implant. He glances at his multiple gold earrings, then his gaze travels over his maroon duster, and lingers on his shoulder. Tentatively, the boy reaches up, brushes his fingers against his lapel, and moves it aside, revealing the Ravager flame. Yondu expects him to jerk his hand back, run away, scream maybe.

Instead, he gets blue-grey eyes full of awe. "Yer a Ravager?"

"Tha’s right, boy. Yer on a Ravager ship. My ship. The  _Eclector._ "

Kraglin’s lips part in a silent gasp, revealing broken and missing teeth, and he gazes around his surroundings in wonder. "Yer the Captain?"

"Damn straight,” he replies, gripping his lapels proudly. “Captain Yondu Udonta, if ya forgot. And yer Kraglin Obfonteri." At his confused glance, Yondu chuckles. "Ya don't remember tellin' me yer name, do ya?"

A slight shake of his head. "Thought ya were a dream."

"Well, doc had you on some pretty heavy meds." He squints at him. "Speakin' o' which. Ya doin' ok?”

He nods, still looking around the interior of the ship. 

“Want to go back to the med bay?”

A shake of the head.

Yondu nods slowly. "Well, I ain't sleepin' any time soon, and ya look pretty keyed up. So. Ya want a tour of the ship, kid?"

The words draw the boy’s gaze back to him, and he nods – then shivers.

Yondu slips out of his duster and lays it over the kid's shoulders. "Them damn Nova Corps gowns." The coat drags slightly on the ground, and the sleeves are little long, but it fits better than Yondu expected. The boy draws it around him, and glances at Yondu again, eyes lingering on the now-visible arrow holstered at his side. His eyes narrow for a moment, perplexed.

“I’ll give ya a demonstration some other time,” Yondu says with a grin.

The boy’s head cranes back slightly, his eyebrows scrunching as he sees the Captain’s mismatched, jagged teeth. Yondu laughs and slings an arm about Kraglin’s shoulders. “C’mon kiddo.”


	4. The Eclector

Kraglin follows Yondu around the ship in silent fascination. The only time he speaks is when Yondu asks him a direct question that is not answerable by a yes or a no, because Kraglin will only nod or shake his head. Otherwise, the only sound he makes is when Yondu takes him into the hangar, where all of their M-ships are docked.

The boy lets out a gasp, surveying the ships. Each one is decorated differently according to their pilots, painted with vibrant colors and designs. Yondu runs a hand over the hull of one. “This one’s mine.” It’s one of the only ships not decorated. It’s a nondescript, dark color on purpose.

Kraglin traces the lettering on the side with his finger. _“Warbird,”_ he reads in a barely-audible whisper.

Yondu cocks his head in slight surprise. “Ya read?”

Kraglin glances up at him and nods.

“The Skrulls taught ya to read? What fer?”

The boy’s face darkens into a scowl, and he shakes his head. “Not them. School.”

“So you weren’t always a slave, then.”

Kraglin looks at his feet, fiddling with the cuff of Yondu’s coat, and shakes his head.

Yondu bites in the inside of his cheek. _Shit. Way to go, ya idjit._ He claps the boy’s shoulder, and steers him away from the ship. “C’mon.” As they walk, he notices Kraglin has grown even quieter, and he tries to draw his attention outward. “So I saw ya pried the control panel from the door an’ unhooked yer wires from the bed," Yondu says, and Kraglin turns an anxious eye up at him, but he lets out a raucous laugh. "I ain’t mad. Yer pretty clever, ain't ya, kid?"

The boy stares at him, as if he can't believe what he just heard, then lightly shakes his head. "Jus' like workin' with m'hands," he says. "Learnin’ how stuff works, fixin' stuff."

"That so? Where ya learn all that from?”

“Father’s a mechanic.”

Yondu stares down at him as they walk. _Present tense. Means his daddy’s still living. The Skrulls took this boy from his family? The Skrulls is a heartless bunch all right, but they ain’t stupid. They don’t go bargin’ into populated cities abductin’ children._ He shakes his head slightly to clear the train of thought. “How old are ya, boy?"

"Fourteen."

Yondu nods. "And ya like fixin’ stuff? Well, come on this way. You’ll love the engines."

The noise is deafening, and Yondu has to yell to make himself heard. Kraglin doesn’t seem to mind the noise too much, and looks in awe at the giant spinning turbines that take up most of the area. He pulls the boy down a short hallway, then around a corner, and the noise subsides to a muffled roar. "This is where the mechanics work," Yondu says twisting a finger in his ear. He guides Kraglin up a flight of steps and down another hallway. A large room is at the end of this hall, and Yondu sees a light is on.

Horuz is inside. As they enter, he slams down a piece of machinery in frustration, and Kraglin flinches. “Dammit.”

“Horuz,” Yondu says.

The man whirls. “Cap’n. What’re you - oh.” His voice falters as his eyes fall on the boy at his side, and his eyes bug out a little. Yondu remembers that Horuz was there at the Culling.

Kraglin takes a half step backwards, but Yondu grips the collar of the duster and steers him back to his side. “This is Kraglin. Givin’ the boy a tour.” He nods at the machinery on the workbench. “Havin’ trouble?”

Horuz glances over his shoulder, glaring at the object. “Uh…yeah. Coupling was bad. Replaced it, but the damn thing still ain’t working. Don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Hm. You look at the drive on the _Warbird_ like I asked?”

“Yeah,” Horuz said, taking Yondu aside. “It looks like it’s a problem with the…”

Kraglin tunes them out as he looks around at the wide array of machinery and tools littering the many workbenches in the room. Parts hang from the walls and ceiling, bits of wire, nuts and bolts are strewn across the floor. His gaze strays to the workbench where the piece of machinery that Horuz was working on lays, and he steps closer.

His fingers brush over the metal. He studies the coupling, and with a furtive glance at Horuz, begins taking the item apart.

Yondu spies him out of the corner of his eye as he listens to Horuz, but says nothing. Kraglin takes the machine apart, very quietly, and looks at the circuit board and wires inside. Taking up a pair of pliers nearby, he twists a couple wires together with some difficulty on account of his bandaged hand. He bends a circuit board slightly, then reattaches the coupling. He’s not so quiet at putting the machine back together, and Horuz spins at the noise.

“What the hell d’ya think yer doin’, boy?”

Kraglin backs quickly up from the workbench, eyes wide. “Fi-fixed it.”

“What?” the Ravager asks incredulously.

Yondu raises an eyebrow.

“Fixed it,” Kraglin repeats, gesturing to the machine.

Horuz scowls at him, then at the machine, and he flicks the switch irritatedly. It gives off a smooth hum. His mouth drops. “What! How – how did…? What was wrong?”

Yondu grins.

“Jus’ a loose wire, bent board,” Kraglin says quietly. “They weren’t connectin’.”

Horuz lets out a wry laugh, and runs a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Well, y’saved me a headache, kid.”

The faintest ghost of a smile flickers across Kraglin’s face, and then he yawns.

Yondu tugs at his arm. “C’mon, boy. Let’s get you back to med bay.”

When they reach their destination, Yondu stops and jabs a thumb at the door control with a grin. Kraglin blushes blue. “I’ll fix it.”

Yondu just chuckles as he takes back his coat. “Get in that bed.”

Kraglin climbs up into the medical bed, wincing, and pulls the covers up to his chin.

“Y’all get some sleep now. Mebbe I’ll bring ya a broken thingamajig tomorrow. Somethin’ to fiddle with.”

The boy nods and lays his head back against the pillow with a yawn.

The Captain turns to leave, then pauses at the foot of the cot. He rubs the back of his neck. “Look, kid. I know what ya were tryin’ to do with the airlock.”

Kraglin’s eyes drop to the blanket, where he pulls at a loose thread.

“I know it don’t seem like it sometimes, but…jus’…there’s always another way, ok?”


	5. Fixin' Stuff

Yondu returns the next day with a box full of broken odds and ends that Horuz has been meaning to fix for months. The Captain leaves the med bay to retrieve some basic tools, and when he comes back, he’s also holding a thermos and a spoon.

“Here, kid," Yondu says, unscrewing the lid of the thermos and handing it over. "Thought you could use some real food. Ain't much, just some soup, but it's gotta be better than that mush the doc’s been givin' ya. "

The boy cradles the warm cup in his hands and inhales deeply over it. A soft sigh escapes his lips, relief spreading over his shoulders like a blanket. He dips the spoon in, blows on the contents, and slurps it into his mouth. He swallows slowly, then pauses, staring at the spoon, and Yondu sees tears gather at the corner of his eyes. 

"Aw, c'mon. Ain't that bad, is it?" Yondu laughs, nudging him.

The boy's blue eyes rise to meet his, and shakes his head earnestly. "It's real good," he says. "Ain't had anythin' so good since...can't remember when."

Yondu grins. "I think that's the longest string a' words you said together yet. Well, eat up, boy. There's plenty more where that come from." He turns to leave when he hears Kraglin speak again.

"Cap'n?"

He stops.

"What’s gonna happen to me?”

“Well, that’s up to ya.” He nods at the soup. “Eat up, and get better. We’ll talk about that later.”

\---

Kraglin fixes all the parts in the box that Yondu gave him, and anything else that Horuz has lying around that he doesn’t want to be bothered with. Yondu looks in on him once a day if he has the time, and he can tell the boy is starting to get antsy being cooped up in the med bay. About two weeks after their departure from Knowhere, Kraglin’s open wounds have closed up, and other than his hand, ribs and foot, he’s pretty much healed up completely.

One morning, he’s awoken by Yondu, who gives him a long-sleeved shirt and pants to wear, along with some boots that are a just a little big, and he is led out of the med bay. They walk together through the corridors, across catwalks and up four flights to one of the mess halls in the center of the ship.

There, Yondu offers the kid some soup – his favorite food now, apparently, although it might just be because his teeth are still missing – and some of the softest bread he can find. Then he sits Kraglin at a table, where Horuz is waiting with three broken devices.

Kraglin chews on the bread, and Yondu can almost see his thoughts processing as his curious eyes rove over the machines. Yondu taps on the table with a finger. “Fix ‘em.”

Horuz tosses a roll of leather in his direction, and Kraglin opens it to reveal a variety of tools. The boy pulls the first device towards him, slurps up a drink of soup, and turns the broken item in his fingers. His eyes dart to the tools, and he picks out a screwdriver and a soldering rod.

Yondu and Horuz watch silently as the boy’s fingers fly over the mechanics of all three pieces. When he doesn’t have what he needs, Kraglin makes requests in a quiet voice, and Horuz fetches the items while he finishes his meal.

Within two hours, all three devices are back up and running.

Horuz inspects each piece, and raises his eyes to Yondu’s, then pulls the Captain aside. “He’s good,” he says in a low voice. “ _Real_ good. They work better than before they was broke. Listen, Captain, if yer gonna make him a Ravager, I want him on my mechanics team.”

Yondu nods, then walking back to Kraglin, throws himself into the seat next to the boy. “Kraglin. Yer from Xandar, right?”

The boy nods at him slowly. “Yeah.”

“Yer about all healed up. Ya want me to drop you off at home?”

“No!” The reply comes shouted and without hesitation. Kraglin’s eyes are wide, frightened, and in their depths Yondu sees a spark of something familiar, but it’s gone before he has a chance to dwell on it.

Yondu holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Hey, ok. Calm down, we won’t drop ya off on Xandar.” _That was a lot more of a violent reaction than I expected. Xandar is one of them_ nice _planets. What happened at home that’s so bad, kid?_ He makes a mental note to look into it later. “Anywhere else ya’d like to go?”

Kraglin opens his mouth to say something, then bites his lip and shakes his head. “No sir, but could - could I…?”

“Could ya what?”

He averts his eyes and suddenly becomes very interested in a loose thread in his shirt. “Nevermind, was stupid.”

Yondu glances at Horuz and back again. “How’d ya like to join my crew, son?”

Kraglin’s head snaps up, his eyes shining with hope. “Really? I-I was gonna ask, but didn’t think y’all would want anybody like me.”

The Captain chuckles. “Yer pretty clever and y’got real talent with them fingers, kid. Horuz here wants ya on his mechanics team. How does that sound?”

“Yer fully serious?”

“Fully serious. So how ‘bout it, kid? Wanna be a Ravager?”

"What...what would I do?"

"Ya would be a Ravager, son," Yondu says with a shrug. “Take care of whatever Horuz needs fixin’, go on missions, steal shit.”

“Do I get to fly a ship?"

Yondu lets out a long, raucous laugh and slaps his back so hard that Kraglin nearly faceplants into his bowl. "Mebbe someday, kid!"

"O-Ok," Kraglin says. 

"Ok?" Yondu echoes with a grin.

"Yeah. I'm in, Cap'n, sir."

"Thatta boy. Well c'mon, let’s get you to the tailor, get you some proper Ravager wear. Then we'll see about those teeth."


	6. New Recruit

Kraglin holds himself a little straighter, stands a little taller as he walks the halls at Yondu’s side. Ravagers step aside for them, glancing with mild curiosity at the young boy as they pass.

“Ya call me Captain or sir. Ya report to Horuz, Horuz reports to me. If’n I’m not around, Horuz reports to Zeede, the First Mate. Clear?”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

"Good boy. Now believe it or not, we Ravagers got a code. Ya gotta follow the code. It’s what separates us from the rest of the petty criminals out there.”

"Yessir."

“Ya break that code, and ya get exiled – or killed. Depends on the situation,” he says with a shrug. “Now listen up, I’m gonna give ya a run down. Rule number one: Y'can steal from anyone except yer own. Ravagers don’t steal from each other. All spoils are split equally among the crew. Y'ever steal anythin' before?"

"I stole some extra food from the Skrulls when they wasn't lookin'. Stole it fer -" his voice cuts off abruptly, and he averts his eyes. It's something Yondu's noticed - Kraglin is never afraid to look him in the eyes, but when slavery or Skrulls come up, he rarely meets his gaze. "Fer the others."

"Fer the girl."

Kraglin looks up at him sharply, and there's a sudden spark of icy hatred in the depths of his eyes. The words _watch what you say next_ hang unspoken in the air.

"Who was she?" Yondu asks, lowering his voice to a gentler tone and making sure the question doesn’t sound too flippant. He turns down an adjacent hall and goes down a flight of short steps, boots clunking on the metal grating.

Kraglin doesn’t answer right away, and Yondu looks back up at him to see his face is pale. "My sister,” he answers quietly. “Vara."

Yondu takes in an involuntary, sharp breath.  _Oh shit. Turn the conversation away._ "Did ya get away with stealin’ it?”

Kraglin swallows and nods. “Yeah. Didn’t catch me. The first dozen times, anyhow. Then they noticed.”

“No problem, we’ll work on that. You’ll be a good a’ thief as any. Like Tullk here.”

A broad-shouldered young man with long dark dreadlocks and the beginnings of stubble on his chin has just crossed their path. He turns sparkling dark brown eyes on them, and smiles. “Capt’n.”

They grasp arms briefly, and Yondu pulls Kraglin forward by the collar of his shirt. “This is Kraglin Obfonteri. Just signed on to be a Ravager.”

“Ah, that so? Aw’right, wee man?” He sticks out a hand, and Kraglin shakes it. “Nice strong grip! Where yeh bound?”

“Tailor’s, get him some leathers,” Yondu answers.

Tullk nods and bends slightly, hands on his knees. “Well, if yeh need anythin’, lad, yeh jus’ come an’ find me. We’ll be good mates, I ken tell.” He moves past them, laying a hand on Kraglin’s head as he goes.

“Yeah, known Tullk since he was about yer age, when I joined up with Stakar’s crew,” Yondu says, continuing his path with a glance back at the man’s retreating form. “One of the best to have at yer side when things get tough. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the Code. Rule number two: killing is not allowed on board the ship, unless it’s me makin’ an example, or unless there’s a _damn_ good reason for ya to do so. Ya got a problem with somebody, ya settle it planetside.”

“Cap’n?”

“Hm?”

“Do I hafta do a lot a’ killin’ as a Ravager?”

Yondu stops so suddenly that Kraglin nearly slams into his back. The Captain turns and looks him in the eye. For someone who killed four Skrulls with his bare hands, Kraglin looks mighty uneasy at the idea. “Boy,” he begins, “Sometimes ya just can’t avoid it. It’s part of the Ravager life. But if ya _can_ get around killin’ and still get the job done that’s set before ya, then that’s fine. Now, we just don’t go around doin’ it willy nilly. If ya ever see me kill somebody, I got a good reason fer it. And if I issue killin’ orders, I got a good reason for them too. Failure to obey orders is a punishable offense.” He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a kind of sigh. “If killing’s gonna be a problem, then ya tell me now. I don’t want to find out y’aint got the belly fer it somewhere down the line when it’s important. So, ya good?”

He doesn’t answer right away, then looks up into his eyes. “Yes, Cap’n.”

“Ok.” He slaps Kraglin on the shoulder, then turns down a short hallway. “Here’s the tailor.” He leans in the doorway of a small room. Clothes hang from the ceiling, and there’s a huge pile of rags and mismatched clothing, as tall as Yondu, taking up half the room. “Oi!” he yells inside.

A Ravager with six long arms and tiny legs swings into the doorframe. He balances on the knuckles of his longest arms. “Captain. How can I be of service?”

“Ya got some Ravager leathers that’ll fit this boy until we can get planetside and get him something decent?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back at Kraglin.

The Ravager peers at the boy with big, luminous eyes, clicks his tongue, then disappears, returning a second later with a measuring tape.

Kraglin stiffens as the Ravager whisks around him, measuring his arms, waist, feet, neck, and height. It’s all done in a matter of seconds, and then the Ravager is grumbling to himself as he tosses clothes from one side of the room to the other. Yondu ducks as a leather jacket comes flying out of the door and smacks Kraglin in the face. It’s followed by an undershirt, socks with a hole in one of the heels, a pair of leather pants, a coat, some boxers, and a pair of mismatched boots with metal toes.

The tailor hands Yondu a flame patch and a needle and thread, which he tucks into his pocket for the time being. Kraglin exchanges the boots, but gathers everything else up in his arms and scurries after the Captain, who is already halfway down the hall.

“Rule number three,” he continues. “Ravagers steal for a living. We carry and sell cargo. But none of that cargo is _ever_ sentient beings. We do not deal in people. Especially kids.” He turns down another hallway. “Rule four. Same kinda rule applies to sex. Ya can pay for all the sexbots ya want, but ya don’t pay for sex from a real person. Prostitution is just another form of slavery, that’s why we only go to robot brothels. Got it?”

Kraglin’s face is flushed blue all the way to the tips of his ears. “Yessir.”

Yondu chuckles as he makes his way down the steps. “You’ll learn more about that later.”

“Yessir – _oof!_ ” Kraglin is thrown onto his back, clothes flying, as a Ravager comes careening out of the room to his right.

He stares up at the tall man looming over him. His copper-colored face is covered in scars and tattoos, his head a mass of long fleshy tendrils instead of hair, decorated with beads and rings. Small horns protrude from his chin and forehead. A large circular earring glints from one ragged ear.

“Watch where yer goin’!” he hisses, pointing a long black claw down at him. The Ravager peers into his face, and his lips pull back to show long yellow fangs. “Who the hell are you?”

“New recruit,” Yondu says firmly, and the Ravager whirls.

“Cap’n.”

“Zeede, this is Kraglin Obfonteri. Just signed on - he’ll be workin’ with Horuz. Kraglin, this is the First Mate.”

“S-sir,” Kraglin scrambles to his feet and extends his hand like he did with Tullk.

Zeede makes no move to take his hand, but looks him up and down, mouth still fixed in a snarl. “Kinda scrawny, ain’t he.”

“He’ll grow.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Zeede pokes a sharp nail into the pile of clothes at Kraglin’s chest. “Just stay outta my way, scab.” He pushes past the boy roughly.

“Yessir,” Kraglin answers, stumbling to regain his balance.

Yondu, who’s made his way up the stairs, catches his arm to steady him. “Don’t pay no attention to him,” he murmurs. “We don’ see eye to eye on everything’ but he’s a hell of a thief, a good shot, and one a’ the best pilots in any Clan. Just stick by me, kid. Y’all be all right.”

Kraglin gathers up the clothing and holds it tightly. “Yessir.”

“Last rule. Ya respect your Captain and the orders yer given. If ya got an issue with any of my orders, ya come to me private-like and we’ll figure it out. But if I catch ya talkin’ behind my back I could consider it the starting of a mutiny.”

“Won’t ever do that, Cap’n,” Kraglin says solemnly, looking up into Yondu’s eyes. “I-I’ll always have yer back, sir.”


	7. Monster

Kraglin lies on his cot in the dark med bay, tongue probing the new metal teeth strewn throughout his mouth. The pain meds from earlier that day have worn off, and now it’s just a vague dull ache in his gums. They feel cold, taste strange in his mouth. He draws his tongue back quickly as it slides along a sharp edge. The medic said they’d wear down after time.

His maroon Ravager jacket is hung next to his cot, and his fingers stray to the flame on the arm, tracing the edges of the patch and the shape of the smaller flame within. The Captain had sat patiently with him, showing him how to sew the patch into the thick leather with gentle, practiced fingers, before leaving him to his own devices.

Kraglin pulls his hand back underneath the warmth of the blanket and snuggles back against the pillow. Tomorrow, he’s going to start his life as a Ravager. He yawns, and closes his eyes. Soon, he drifts off to sleep.

He’s been taken off all his meds from his previous injuries as of today, and he didn’t realize how much they’d been helping him sleep, until the nightmares begin. They're even worse than when he was in his drug-induced, feverish state when he was first brought aboard, because this time, they feel real.

Bright flashes of color give way to sickly black shadows that turn into solid shapes, and loud noises melt into the guttural, harsh language of the Skrulls. Ch'reth, Kraglin's former master and the leader of the band of Skrulls he'd traveled with, holds his sister in his claws, a knife at her throat. 

And then, for the first time in weeks, he remembers what happened after Vara was killed. It’s been fuzzy, a swirl of images and noises, but now it come in far too clear. He remembers a scream tearing from his throat - but it sounds like someone else's voice, and his actions are not his own. He watches helplessly as his hands tear Skrulls apart, breaking necks and clawing out eyes. Looking down, he sees he's drenched in blood up to his knees - and suddenly he's drowning in it. He's neck-deep in a pool of half-dead bodies which claw at his shoulders and face. The blood is filling up his nose and ears, flooding his eyes. He can't breathe.

Kraglin gasps, cries out, flailing, and almost turns himself over onto the floor.

The monitor behind him is beeping so fast it's almost a solid tone. Kraglin tears the wires from his body and leaps out of bed, scrambling to get the sheets off of him. He needs to get out, needs to be away from everyone - he could kill them all.

\---

"What the hell happened? Where did he go?" Yondu snarls at the medic.

"I don't know, sir! The alarms went off, I got into the med bay as fast as I could, but by the time I got there, he was already gone."

"Damn kid," Yondu mutters. He turns to Tullk, who is scanning the feeds to locate the boy. "Any luck?"

"There he is - looks like he headed for the 4th Quadrant sublevels. Shit, th' kid is fast." He freezes a frame that captures Kraglin's face, and his brow furrows. "Looks terrified."

"He was fine when I locked down for the night, I swear!" the medic says.

Yondu sighs. "Shit. Tullk, I'll take sublevel A, you take B, and we'll work down from there. Com me if ya find him."

\----

Tullk finds Kraglin first. He's tucked into the darkest, smallest, coldest corner, knees drawn up, head buried in his arms. Tullk taps his wrist and speaks into the com. “Found him.”

“Locking on to yer position. On my way.”

Tullk approaches the boy cautiously; since initially meeting the boy, he’s heard from Horuz and Half-Nut what a wild thing he was on Knowhere. “Oi,” he says gently.

A loud sniffle, and Kraglin raises his head. His eyes are puffy and blue-rimmed, his face blue and blotchy from crying. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

Tullk stops, and lowers himself down to a crouch. “Yeh all right there? Are yeh hurt?”

Kraglin looks like he wants to say something, but his lip quivers and he lowers his head again.

Tullk’s eyebrows draw together and he slumps down against the wall next to the boy. He pats a hand against his shoulder. “It’s all right, lad,” he says. Kraglin mumbles something into his arms, and Tullk leans his head down. “Wassat now?”

“I’m a monster,” comes the mumbling reply.

Tullk lets out a gentle laugh. “No yer not. Why would yeh say somethin’ like that?”

Kraglin turns his head slightly so he can look at Tullk with one teary eye. "I remembered what I did,” he whispers.

"What yeh did?"

"I killed all those Skrulls."

"Hey, Skrulls are bad news. Yeh don't have to feel sorry ’bout that."

"But I  _killed_  them. With my bare hands! And if – if I could do that, why didn’t I do it sooner and save my sister? I let them kill her.” He buries his face in his arms again, lifting an arm to cover the back of his head.

“Oh, oh. Boyo.” Tullk loops an arm about his back and pulls him snugly against his body. “Hush now. Weren’t yer fault what happened.”

 “Yeah it is, I coulda stopped ‘em and I didn’t! I didn’t save her! I murdered them and my sister is dead because of me. I’m a monster,” he repeats, his voice muffled and ending in a sob.

"Horseshit." Tullk squeezes Kraglin’ shoulder. "The _Skrulls_ is the monsters. Look what they did to yeh. And they do worse to thousands of other people all over the galaxy every day. We're all better off without a few of the bastards. And yeh-" A movement catches Tullk's eye, and he sees Yondu, who looks like he's been standing there for at least a few minutes. The Captain jabs a thumb behind him, and Tullk releases Kraglin to leave them in private.

Yondu approaches quietly, and with a soft grunt, sits where Tullk was a few moments before, at Kraglins side. He stares at the boy for a moment or two, fighting a sentimental urge to draw the boy into his arms. He shakes his head. _No child should have to deal with this sorta thing._

He was exposed to death and killing at such a tender age himself that until Stakar freed him and brought him into the fold, he’d just thought that was the norm. There was no such thing as forgiveness, then. There was no such thing as gentility, friendship or happiness. It was kill or be killed, obey or die, and that was life.

From what he’s gathered, though, Kraglin remembers a time before the slave life. He was torn from the world he knew, thrown into that world of cruelty and death, and he hasn’t quite learned how to cope the ramifications yet. The Captain lays a hand on the boy’s bare head. "Lookit me, kid." Kraglin sniffles and raises glistening eyes to Yondu's. "Yer not a monster. Killin’ them Skrulls weren’t yer fault. They made you do that, provoked ya and made ya into a machine to suit their own needs. But that's not who you are, boy. Ya know what I see, when I look at you?"

A tear escapes Kraglin's eye and he shakes his head.

"I see a _Ravager_. A clever, strong kid who has a real knack for fixin' stuff. A survivor and a fighter. It ain’t yer fault what happened to yer sister. It was the Skrulls that killed her. Ya did everything ya could. Yer not a monster. Say it."

"M' not a monster," Kraglin echoes with a slight hiccup.

"Tha's right." Yondu slaps his back. "Now wipe them eyes and get on yer feet. Don't want to see no more tears. Yer a Ravager now, time to act like one." He stands, and Kraglin disentangles his legs and does them same. The boy drags his palms across his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breaths. "Yer gonna go back to med bay now. Tonight'll be yer last night in there. Tomorrow ya start reportin' to Horuz, and you’ll be sleepin’ with the rest a’ the crew. Got that?"

"Yessir."


	8. Nightmares

Months pass. Kraglin proves to be a quiet, hard worker, and seems to adjust to Ravager life well. He never makes a fuss, never complains, and to Yondu’s surprise, avoids fights at all costs. Even when physically antagonized, he doesn't retaliate. He just brushes it off, and resumes whatever he was doing. Yondu's not sure what to think about this. On one hand, he's glad the boy doesn't make trouble. On the other hand, the inaction can be perceived as weakness. Thankfully, the boy's cleverness saves him.

The Captain finds that if he needs something done quick and complete, he takes it to Kraglin. The boy's focus is unparalleled and he’s eager to please, so he quickly becomes the go-to mechanic for the entire crew whenever something breaks down. He doesn’t always sound too smart when he speaks, but whenever Yondu sees his eyes, they’re always deep in thought, always learning, always observing. The boy fixes whatever he can get his hands on; he’s always tinkering with something or other – in the workshop, in the hangar, in the mess.

Kraglin keeps to himself mostly at first, but Yondu notices him hanging around with Tullk and a recruit named Oblo, who’s about his age. They teach him to shoot, and after a week or so of lessons, he proves himself to be a dead shot. They stick close to him on his first dozen missions, and they sleep in the same barracks.

He grows stronger and healthier. His appetite rivals any teenage boy, but his metabolism remains high, because even though he fills out some, he retains his lean frame. He grows tall - and fast. Within the first eight months alone, he goes through three uniforms and two pairs of boots. Within the year, he's grown to Yondu's height. Under the influence of Ravager life and the companionship of his closest crewmates, Kraglin grows out of his shell, becoming less shy, and before long he’s able to lie, steal and cuss as well as any Ravager worth their salt.

All things considered, he seems to be doing well. But there's something about him, some sort of anxiety or stress than hangs over Kraglin's shoulders like a shroud. Any time Yondu sees him smile, it somehow feels like it’s just a mask. He can't put his finger on what it is, until almost a year after the boy’s initiation.

They’re about to make a supply run for rations, booze and some other necessities, and there happens to be a small town on some moon a couple planets over that is Ravager friendly, with bars and brothels a plenty. Yondu plans to make the crew work their asses off getting supplies, then treat them to a night of drinking and debauchery.

Yondu strolls into med bay, tablet in hand. “Doc. I just got inventory back to me, and I’m bein’ told that ya need stims? I brought a whole case back for ya on our last run!”

“I know Captain, but we’re running low again,” the Krylorian replies, washing his hands. “I don’t know where they’re all going.”

Yondu narrows his eyes. “Ya think someone’s stealin’ ‘em?”

“I know it’s serious accusation, but I know for a fact that I have not issued that many. That’s the only explanation I can come up with, sir.”

“How long this been goin’ on?”

“I’m not sure. I only started noticing the last couple weeks that we were running out. It’s probably been happening over time.”

Yondu clicks his tongue and nods. “All right, I’ll address the crew. In the meantime, anythin’ else goin’ missing?”

“No sir, just the stims.”

The Captain nods and walks out, tablet clenched in hand. On the way out, he punches a button that activates the ship-wide intercom. “Cap’n speaking,” he says, and pauses. “All unassigned and available crew report to the hangar for briefing in ten.” He hits the button again, and faintly hears the noises of scrambling crewmates and commotion all over the ship.

Ten minutes later, he’s surrounded by the crew in the hangar. “Ya know we’re goin’ on a supply run. Requests shoulda been turned into yer leads by this mornin’, and anyone assigned should’a got their orders. Zeede is on weapons detail, Horuz on engineering. Tullk and me’ll be lookin’ at M-ship upgrades.”

“All right, ya heard the Cap’n-” Zeede begins, but Yondu interrupts.

“Ain’t done yet.”

“Sir?”

“I got one more announcement.” He whistles, and the arrow drifts lazily out of its holster.

Everyone in the hangar freezes in their tracks, dead silent.

“Someone has been stealin’ outta the med bay. Ya know who ya are and what ya been takin’. It’s gonna stop right here, right now.” He scans the crowd of Ravagers surrounding him, but can’t find a guilty face to settle on. “I am in a forgivin’ type mood today, so I’m gonna give ya one more chance. If this happens again, if I hear supplies – medical or otherwise – is goin’ missin’, I am gonna start searching rooms and bodies. And when I find who’s been doin’ the stealin’…well.” He whistles, and the arrow stands to attention, buzzing angrily above his head. “Use yer imagination.” With a final note, the arrow whisks back to his side. “Ya got yer orders. Get goin’!”

\----

The supply run is finished, and the crew is all moonside, where there are drinks aplenty and sexbots too. Yondu lets the crew roam wherever they please. He settles himself in a dingy little bar and sits at the counter, a sexbot in his lap. He trails his fingers along the synthetic skin of her thigh as he watches his crew.

Some of them are tucked away in upper room with sexbots of their own, some are drinking and gambling, and a fairly large group of them is throwing knives into a target along one wall, taking turns in teams and betting. Loud groans and cheers erupt from this crowd. Yondu’s gaze follows Oblo and Half-Nut as they break apart to run over to Kraglin. The boy’s been quieter than usual these last couple weeks, and keeps to himself tonight at a booth at the far end of the bar.

“Come on!” he hears Oblo say, “A knife throw won’t be a problem for you!”

“Yeah, Tullk passed out – drank too much, and he was our best shot!” Half-Nut says, swaying unsteadily. He nearly spills his drink all over himself.

Yondu chuckles, then takes a deep drink from a steaming glass at his elbow, sighing as the concoction burns down his throat. The sexbot nibbles at his neck, caressing his chest, and he hums in pleasure.

"Fine, if it will shut y'all up!"

Yondu's head snaps up at the shout, and he sees Kraglin stand from his booth, slamming his drink down on the table.  _Hell, what crawled up that boy's ass?_ Yondu's never heard him raise his voice, unless he's calling over to someone over loud machinery or blastershot. The commotion in the bar did not warrant that yell.

The mechanic stomps over to the throwing range, takes three knives in his hands, and lets fly, one after the other. He doesn't even bother waiting around to see if they hit their marks before he stalks back to his booth and down his drink in one gulp.

Half-Knut and Oblo inspect the target. Even from here, Yondu can see that all three knives are in the middle of the target, within short distance of one another. The two cheer loudly. “Ya dancer!” A now-conscious Tullk cries, slapping Oblo’s shoulder drunkenly.

There’s a series of groans, an exchange of units, and a Ravager named Mullar roars. He stomps over to Kraglin, a knife in his fist. Yondu shifts in his seat as Mullar pokes the point of the knife under Kraglin’s chin. The Captain folds back his coat just slightly, in case he needs to step in.

“I had the best aim tonight. You owe some money, Obfonteri.”

“Walk away, Mullar,” Kraglin says, staring straight ahead. He lets his glass roll out from the grasp of hands, and his fingers twitch slightly.

“What did you say to me? Sounds like you need to be taught a lesson, _bitch.”_

In a movement so quick it’s lost to Yondu’s eyes, the knife is out of Mullar’s grasp and Kraglin is driving it through its owner’s hand, pinning him to the table.

Mullar screams, but it silenced as Kraglin seizes his hair and slams his head down into the surface of the table. Kraglin whips the bloody knife back out of the Mullar’s hand and points it at the two Ravagers that had been flanking him. Without a word, eyes burning like meteors, the mechanic backs out the bar door. A moment later, the knife comings flying back through the doorway, burying itself in the floor.

Yondu pushes the sexbot off his lap and follows Kraglin out the door. He’s impressed at the action, but he has to find out what is going on with that boy.

“Krags!” he calls.

Kraglin looks over his shoulder, stops for a moment, then resumes his pace. “Ain’t gonna apologize, Cap. Jackass deserved it.”

“Won’t hear no argument from me. Now, what’s eatin’ ya?” he waits for Kraglin to answer, but the boy just keeps walking. Gritting his teeth, Yondu seizes his upper arm and yanks him backwards. “Don’t ya walk away from me when I’m talkin’ to ya, boy!” he snarls. He takes hold of his shoulders and turns him bodily, so he can see his face.

Yondu doesn’t know how he’s missed it. The dark circles, the bloodshot eyes, the heavy sag of Kraglin’s face and shoulders. He shakes his head and sighs. “Y’aint sleepin’, is ya?”

Kraglin swallows, and shakes his head. “No, Cap,” he says in a trembling voice. “I can’t. Ain’t had a full night’s sleep since those first days ya brought me aboard – and I reckon that was cuz I was unconscious.”

“How much sleep ya got this week?”

“Mebbe six hours, tops.”

Yondu’s eye widen. _Six hours? Fer the whole week? The kid should be dead on his feet._ Then it hits him. “You were the one stealin’ the stims.”

Tears brim in the boy’s eyes. “Y-yessir. I’m sorry, Cap’n, I didn’t know what else to do – there were so many and I didn’t think they’d be missed, but I know it was wrong and - and I’m sorry I disappointed ya, Cap’n.” The words come tumbling out of his mouth, dropping lower and lower in volume. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I know ya hafta kill me now,” he whispers. “Just do it quick.”

“Oh, shut up, boy. I ain’t gonna kill ya,” Yondu says with a sigh. “Why didn’t ya tell the doc? Why didn’t ya tell _me_ y’ain’t sleepin’?”

A shrug. “Didn’t want anyone to know, to think I’m – I’m not Ravager material.”

“Shit, kid. Ya can’t keep this kinda stuff to yerself. Not when missions might be at risk, and when someone can help.” Keeping hold of the boy’s arm, Yondu steers him back in the direction of _Eclector_.

Once aboard, he heads straight for the med bay. Doc’s gone, celebrating with the rest of the crew, but Yondu knows what he’s looking for. He rummages around in the drawers and cabinets, and finally finds what he’s in search of. He thrusts a bottle of pills at Kraglin. “Take one a’ those before ya go to sleep. Those’ll help knock ya out.”

\----

A few weeks later, Yondu finds himself awake during Third Watch. While he traverses the ship, he passes on of the alcoves with a wide viewing port. It’s usually used by the crew as a spot to gamble, drink, or both. At this time of the day-cycle, it should be empty. But Kraglin is there, sitting slumped into the wall, his arms propped up on the thin sill, eyes reflecting the stars and space debris floating by outside.

“Krags?”

The boy turns, and his face is tired, haggard.

“Aw hell, kid. Don’t tell me y’ain’t sleepin’ still.”

“No, the pills help, Cap’n,” he says, rising.

“Sit back down, dammit,” Yondu says, seating himself on the floor beside him. “If the pills are helpin’, then what’s with the face?”

Kraglin puts his head in his hands and drags his fingers back through his hair. It’s getting long, falling into his eyes. “I have nightmares,” he says finally. “Bad ones. Real bad. The pills help me fall asleep, but the nightmares always wake me back up. Just had a real bad dream, so I came out here. Didn’t wanna wake the others.”

Yondu nods, turning his face to look out the window. Several moments pass in silence. “I used to have real bad nightmares like you,” he offers at last. “Still have some, don’t get me wrong, but Stakar… he helped me work through some of ‘em. Now, I ain’t Stakar, and I ain’t no doctor or psycho-whatsit, but why dontcha tell me what yer dreamin’ about, and mebbe it’ll help.”

A tinge of blue appears on Kraglin’s cheeks, and he turns away shamefully. “I don’t wanna bother ya with that, Cap’n.”

“Don’t make me turn it into an order, Kraglin.”

The boy sighs, then takes a deep breath. “I dream lotsa things, but they’re always bad. Skrulls, mostly. I see ‘em killin’ my sister. And – and I see my father.”

Yondu straightens up slightly. “Yer father?”

Kraglin raises his eyes to Yondu’s, then turns them out the window. He scratches peeling paint off the sill with a fingernail as he talks. “When I was six, Momma got real sick. We couldn’t afford a doctor, and she died. Father started drinkin’, and I took care of Vara mostly, when I weren’t helpin’ in the tool shop. He kept drinkin’, and he started gamblin’. Gambled everything away. All our stuff, the shop, the house… and then… and then he gambled us away, too. I dream ‘bout it, remember him gettin’ a big ol’ bag a’ units from a Skrull fer us. He didn’t even look back at us when we was taken away.” He bites his lip, and Yondu sees his eyes are glassy. “That ain’t all though. I see – I see Horuz, and Tullk, Oblo…and… and you, Cap’n. Captured in cages, getting’ tortured n’ killed by the Skrulls.” His hand curls into a fist, and it trembles. “And there ain’t a damn thing I can ever do to help ya. That’s the worst part.”

“Well, I can help _you_ , boy,” Yondu says. He tries to keep his voice on the level, but he’s nearly shaking with anger. Memories long and purposefully buried – memories of his own parents, selling him to the Kree the way Kraglin’s father sold him – have come surging back. This boy is just like him. Betrayed by the family he remembers, he thinks he’s going to lose his new Ravager family, too. Yondu had nightmares _just_ like that when he joined up with Stakar. His brain must have figured it was too good to be reality, so it created a nightmare in which that family was taken away. He takes a shuddering inhale of breath, and pulls Kraglin towards him. “Come here. Ya lookit me, now. I’m gonna tell ya something’ that Stakar told me, and it helped. I can’t fix those memories of yer Momma, or yer sister, or yer damn father. But I _can_ fix that last part. These are yer dreams, son. Y’can control them to some extent. So when ya start dreamin’ that Skrulls is tearin’ yer crewmates apart, ya just imagine me whistlin’. Whistlin’ my arrow through all them Skrulls and killin’ ‘em dead. Then all the crewmates’ll be safe, and it ain’t gonna be a nightmare anymore.” He takes Kraglin’s face in his hands. “Every time ya think about that dream, jus’ imagine that different ending. Keep playin’ it in yer head. And the next time ya dream, it won’t be so bad. Might not even happen after awhile.”

“Ya think it’ll work, Cap’n?” his voice is quiet and hopeful.

“Worked fer me.”

In the months following, Yondu keeps a closer watch on Kraglin and his sleeping habits. As the weeks go on, he notices that while the dark circles under the boy’s eyes never really go away, Kraglin seems more energetic, happier, and more rested. One day he’s fixing a wing on an M-ship when Yondu passes by. They meet each other’s gazes, and the boy smiles. The mask that had been there before is gone.


	9. Lead

"Kraglin!"

Kraglin jerks upward and smashes his forehead against the machine he's working on. "Shit!" He wriggles out from underneath it and looks up into Oblo's excited face. He rubs his forehead, squinting up at his friend. "What?"

"We gotta get to the hangar! C'mon!"

"What's goin' on?"

"The  _Starhawk_  is here! Stakar Ogord's coming aboard!"

Kraglin stares in disbelief and picks up his pace as they run together towards the hangar. Stakar Ogord isn't just revered among Ravagers - he's a household name throughout the galaxy. He's one of the most feared outlaws, with a huge bounty on his head, but respected for his denouncement and eradication of slavers. "What's he doing here?"

"Tullk says he's visiting!"

 _"Visiting?"_ he repeats incredulously. 

"Yeah, came to see Yondu and Tullk and some of the others," Oblo explains. "They used to be part of his crew, didn't ya know that?"

"Naw." Yondu's mentioned Stakar before, but Kraglin didn't realize they were close. The pair emerge atop a catwalk overlooking the hangar, and they're just in time to see Stakar Ogord walking in, followed by a small team of Ravagers. Dressed in dark blue leathers, he's an imposing figure, dark hair barely streaked with grey. The solar wings glow atop his broad shoulders.

Walking at his right is a man Kraglin assumes must be Martinex, his First Mate. The Pluvian's crystalline skin sparkles and shines as the hangar lights catch it. "Hey, Blue!" he yells, and flips the bird at someone they can't see.

Yondu's rough, raucous laugh drifts up to them, and he appears just below, flinging the rude gesture right back. Kraglin and Oblo grin at each other.

Stakar Ogord is smiling, and to the boys' shock, he pulls Yondu into a one-armed hug as they reach each other. They exchange words that Kraglin and Oblo can't hear. A few minutes later, Tullk runs up and clasps Ogord's arm, and Martinex pounds his back. Taserface, Horuz and a few others appear as well, and they nod at one another in greeting.

"Wonder what it's like on the  _Starhawk,"_ Oblo says idly, leaning on his elbows against the railing.

"Probably a lot like here," Kraglin says with a smile. "'Specially if the Cap'n came from the  _Starhawk_ in the first place."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Ouch!"

"Ow!"

Clawed hands painfully twist their ears. Zeede's head slips between theirs. "Get back to work, _lads_ ," he hisses. "Or I'll report you're slacking off."

Rubbing their ears and hiding glares from the First Mate, Kraglin and Oblo run back to their respective duties.

* * *

Kraglin rubs the back of a glove against his forehead, smearing grease across it. He's lying on a rolling creeper board, almost finished on the dismantled hull of an M-ship. He's got a wrench in one hand and a light held between his teeth. He's about to tighten another bolt when he feels a grip on his toe, pulling him out from under the ship. He lets his body go slack, turning his head so he doesn't lose his nose against the metal, and blinks as he's pulled into the light. 

"Thought that was you, boy," comes Yondu's voice, and when Kraglin's vision clears, he sees the Captain standing there - along with Stakar Ogord.

He gasps and leaps to his feet. "C-Cap'n," he says to Yondu, "Cap'n." He salutes to Ogord, pounding his fist against the left side of his chest.

"You must be Kraglin Obfonteri," he says in a deep, bone-shaking voice.

"Y-yessir."

"Yondu says you're the finest mechanic on his ship."

An involuntary blush springs to his cheeks, and he glances at the Captain, who averts his gaze. "He - he does?"

"Well, are you?"

"Oh, well. I'm pretty good, I guess. Horuz has a lot more experience, though, sir."

"He's jus' bein' humble," Yondu says with a laugh, and lands a slap on Kraglin's back that nearly sends him sprawling. "How'd ya like a challenge, boy?"

"A challenge?"

"Yeah. A little wager, a friendly game that we Ravagers do sometimes."

"Sure, I'm up for it, Cap'n."

"Thatta boy! Come on, crew's gatherin' in the hangar."

* * *

When they reach the hangar, there are two identical hyper drives - massive ones; they probably belong to one of the Construction vessels - laid out in the middle of the floor. They're obviously broken. Ravagers in maroon and dark blue leathers crowd the area in a circle. 

Stakar raises his hands for silence, and Yondu barks out, "All right, shut the noise!" The hangar falls quiet.

Yondu rubs his hands together, grinning. "All right, gonna have ourselves a friendly lil' wagerin' game with the crew a' the  _Starhawk._ " He gestures to the broken hyper drives. "These damn things are busted. Same thing's wrong with 'em, but we're not tellin' what. Game is, the  _Starhawk's_  mechanics against the  _Eclector's._  Team a' two. Stakar, pick yer team."

"Raggh," Stakar calls out, and the blue-clad Ravagers cheer as an orange-skinned Ergon emerges from the crowd, his black hair grown out long and held back in a short ponytail at the base of his neck. A long scar crosses his nose and trails down his lip. He's not very tall, but he's wide and broad-shouldered. His muscles bulge.

"Pick a teammate," Stakar says.

Raggh points into the crowd and "Kal'tar."

A thin, wiry Shi'ar Ravager with sharp features stalks out to stand beside Raggh.

Yondu turns and points. "Kraglin!" 

Kraglin's heart leaps into his throat. He's not even lead mechanic, and Yondu picked him first. Swallowing, he forces his feet to move forward. 

"Pick yer second, boy," the Captain says.

Kraglin turns. "Horuz!" he calls without hesitation.

The man pushes his way to the front of the crowd, and gives Kraglin one of his rare, warm smiles. Kraglin smiles back. 

"You have exactly one minute to look over the machine," Stakar says. "No tools during that minute. Then you use whatever is in your chest -" he gestures as two identical tool crates are wheeled in - "To fix them. First team done and working properly gets 500 units, medals, and bragging rights. Ready?" He holds up a finger, and glances at Yondu.

"Yer minute starts - now!" the Centaurian yells.

Stakar and Yondu stand side by side, watching their respective teams. Raggh and Kal'tar circle the machine, bending down and looking at it, poking pieces and conversing quietly. Stakar nudges Yondu's shoulder, nodding at Kraglin. He and Horuz have the machine tipped on its side, so they can look underneath. "That's what I would have done," he comments softly.

"Me too," Yondu says, smiling in approval.

Kraglin's got a pretty good idea of what's wrong, and he runs it by Horuz. The older man agrees and points out a couple other things he noticed.

"Twenty seconds!" Stakar bellows.

"All right, kid. What's the game plan?" Horuz asks.

Kraglin gapes at him. "Me?"

"Yeah. You're lead on this."

Kraglin nods, running fingers through his shaggy hair. "Okay. Gotta take the casing apart first - need the laser knife and the big pliers."

"You got it, kiddo." He claps Kraglin's shoulder with a grin as Stakar calls time.

In a scramble of activity, the four mechanics attack their targets. The hangar is hushed, but steadily grows louder with murmurs, and then cheers the farther the teams progress. 

"We're gonna kick yer ass, kid!" Raggh bellows, furiously wrenching a bolt in place.

Horuz glances at him with a scowl, but Kraglin doesn't even turn. "Jus' blowin' smoke," Kraglin says quietly. "Don't pay no attention. He's doin' it wrong anyhow." At this, Horuz laughs, and solders two wires together at Kraglin's direction.

"Where'd ya pick all this up, anyway?" the older man asks.

Kraglin twirls a screw into a metal plate. "My father had a shop. Worked there when he was...busy. Had to help the family out. Read some books n' stuff. Learned a lot here, though, watchin' ya."

"I think I've learned more from you than you learned from me, kid. You see things I don't."

A blue blush springs to his cheeks. "It's jus' patterns n' stuff. Nothin' special. Toss me that mallet."

45 minutes in, Raggh bellows in triumph. "Done!"

Horuz straightens up, wiping sweat from his brow in dismay.  _"Shit!"_

Kraglin glances at the other team, then continues working. "Ain't fixed, keep goin', Horuz," he says.

"But they're done."

"Ain't fixed," he repeats. "Gonna blow a fuse."

Sure enough, about ten seconds after Stakar flicks the toggle to turn the hyper drive on, it splutters and emits a shower of sparks. There's a round of cussing and yelling from the other team, and Kraglin allows a smile to grace his lips.

He and Horuz tackle replacing a belt together, and then solder the casing back on.

“One more bolt,” Horuz says, “Wanna do the honors?”

Kraglin grins and tightens the last bolt,” then sticks the wrench in his pocket.

“Done!” Horuz bellows.

Biting his lip to try and fight off a grin, Yondu approaches and flicks the switch. A smooth and steady hum emanates from the machine.

“Looks like we have a winner!” Stakar says, nodding. He digs around in his suit and produces two 500-unit cards, as well as two green ribbons with metal symbols on them. He presents them to Horuz and Kraglin.

Kraglin rubs his thumb over the rocket-like metal symbol on the center of the ribbon, and glancing up, meets Yondu’s eyes. He grins, and the Captain nods back at him.

Both crews go back to the one of the common rooms on the _Eclector_ to celebrate with food and booze. Kraglin is walking up to get another drink when he feels someone snag the back of his collar and yank him back so violently that he gags.

 "You little shit!” Raggh’s voice bellows. “You cheated somehow! Rigged ours! Made us look bad in front of the Cap’tn!"

Horuz appears at Kraglin’s side and shoves Raggh, forcing him to let go of the younger man. He bristles and throws his chest out. "You leave him be."

"It's fine, Horuz," Kraglin replies, smoothing out his jacket. "He's jus' sore we beat him."

"Oh, I'll show you  _beat!"_ Shoving Horuz out of the way, Raggh lands a vicious punch in Kraglin's jaw.

Stars burst before Kraglin's eyes as he connects hard with the ground. The taste of blood fills his mouth. His vision hasn't quite cleared yet when he feels thick fingers clench into his hair and yank him upright. He bites back a cry of pain, pushing himself up on his feet to try and relieve some of the tension. His eyes seek out Horuz, but his friend is busy with Kal'tar, who's got him in a headlock from behind.

Stakar and Yondu are sharing a table with Martinex at the far end of the room. It doesn’t take long for the commotion to reach them. The three of them get to their feet and run across the room, where a crowd is forming. They arrive just in time to see Raggh pick the Kraglin up by the front of the jacket and throw him into a table. The boy tucks his limbs in and rolls over the table, but crashes into the chairs and to the ground. He lifts himself up on shaking arms and raises his head. Yondu watches as a stream of indigo pools and falls over his lips, dripping onto the floor.

Stakar, by Yondu's side, says nothing. He's learned to let these things play out, unless killing is intended, which doesn’t seem to be the case.

Yondu, on the other hand, wants to whistle, and beat the ever-loving snot out of Kraglin's attacker, and it takes him a little by surprise. Sure, he cares about the boy, but he can't show that. He can't be partial. His crew will think he's weak if he comes to the rescue every time Kraglin is in trouble. He takes a small step backwards. The boy has to learn for himself. But that don’t mean he can’t interfere in other ways.

"Get up, boy!" he hollers at Kraglin, and the boy's eyes snap up to him. "What, ya gonna let him win?"

Something akin to lightning flashes within Kraglin's eyes. "No sir," he says, getting to his feet. Another trickle of blood-tinged saliva dribbles over chin, and he wipes it against the back of his arm. "I'm gonna kick his ass."

Raggh has advanced on Kraglin and now reaches across the table to gather the boy's jacket in a massive hand. But Kraglin zips his jacket down, and it comes free in Raggh's grasp. Kraglin slips under the table and between Raggh's legs.

Raggh dives for him, misses narrowly. Kraglin swings a long leg up, and catches Raggh under the chin, causing him to stumble backwards. While he’s unsteady, Kraglin whirls around and hauls Kal’tar off Horuz’s back. The Shi’ar’s lean frame and light bones make him easy for even the young mechanic to lift. With a grunt, he flings him into the rising Raggh, and they both tumble to the floor.

Raggh roars and shoves Kal’tar off him, eyes wide and dark with anger. He charges Kraglin, and at the last possible moment, the mechanic sidesteps and clutches the back of the Ergon’s uniform. With one well-placed upward swing of his knee, Raggh is winded. The Ergon doubles over, holding his stomach, and Kraglin takes the opportunity to land a punch in the side of his face.

He hisses – Raggh has a face like a rock. While he’s nursing his bruised hand, there’s a screech and Kal’tar catapults at him, lashing out and catching Kraglin under the chin. He slams back into a table.  The Shi’ar buries a hand in Kraglin’s hair and slams him back against the table, rearing back his fist. Kraglin jerks his head aside just in time, and Kal’tar’s fist smashes into the table. The Shi’ar howls, then yelps as Horuz yanks him away, having regained his breath.

Kraglin feels a vice-like grip on his arm and is twisted around to find himself face-to-face with a furious Raggh. Both arms are trapped in Raggh’s grasp. The Ergon leers at him, squeezing Kraglin’s arms hard. Orange blood trickles down his teeth and chin. “Got ya, boy,” he snarls. “No escapin’ now.”

Kraglin’s eyes narrow to slits. He grips Raggh’s arms in his hands, so they’re holding each other. In one move, he’s climbed atop the Ergon’s knees; in the next, he’s braced his legs against his shoulders. He leans back, straightening his body, pulling the Ergon’s arms taut. Raggh refuses to let go, and howls in pain. It’s only when Kraglin moves his feet on either side of his thick neck that the Ergon lets go.

Kraglin feels Raggh’s grip slacken and kicks out with both feet into his face. He feels the Ergon’s nose give way with a crunch. A blubbering wail comes from his opponent; blood seeps through his fingers.

Kraglin falls, rolls again to his feet, and is about to charge again, when he feels a grip on his shoulder. Thinking it’s Kal’tar, he turns, hand hardened into a fist.

It slams into a gloved palm.

Kraglin gasps, staring into the eyes of Stakar Ogord. They’re flecked with a bright, white light. “That’s enough,” he says sternly, and the light quickly fades. “He’s learned his lesson. Haven’t you, boy?” Stakar nudges Raggh with his toe, not gently.

Raggh groans and nods, hands still pressed against his face. He glowers at Kraglin.

Stakar releases Kraglin and stands before Luggh, blocking the boy from his view. “Know when you’re beat, boy, and don’t underestimate your enemy.”

* * *

Later that evening, Kraglin is playing a single-person card game in one of the alcoves when he hears people approaching. He looks to sees Horuz and Yondu standing there.

"There ya are, Krags," Yondu says, seating himself across from the boy. Horuz places three shot glasses on the table, and Yondu brings out a bottle from underneath his duster and wiggles it in his hand. “Drink?”

Kraglin smiles softly and nods. “Thanks, Cap’n.”

“You two beat the pants off them other mechanics today,” Yondu says, and his eyes twinkle mischievously as he pours three glasses. “Twice.”

Kraglin laughs embarrassedly, ducking his head and trying to hide his face behind his glass.

"So Horuz here and I were talkin',” he continues, “And we think you'd make a good lead mechanic."

Kraglin splutters into his drink, nearly choking. Horuz chuckles and slaps him heavily on the back. “But - but what about you?" he asks, looking up at his friend.

Horuz waves a hand in dismissal. “We were talking about this weeks ago. Ain't a new subject. You're a better fit, kid. Today just confirmed it. I like bein' on missions better, anyhow."

"Yer sure?"

"Oh yeah."

Kraglin turns excitedly to Yondu, and sees the Captain has his hand stuck out. He grasps it and pumps it up and down, grinning. "I won't let ya down, Cap'n."


	10. Disappointment

It’s many months later, when Kraglin is nearly sixteen, that he meets Stakar Ogord a second time. This time, his wife, Captain Aleta Ogord is with him. She’s ruggedly beautiful, with long dark hair and is dressed in dark green Ravager leathers. But even though Aleta is slim and at least six inches shorter than Stakar, the way she holds herself and the look in her dark eyes tells Kraglin that’s she’s every bit as imposing as her husband, and possibly even more dangerous.

Unlike Stakar, who embraces Yondu as before, Aleta doesn’t seem to be as openly affectionate. She and Yondu grasp arms, however, and a smirking smile graces her lips as he says something to her with a laugh.

Kraglin tries not to stare at the famous couple as he works on the tractor gear of an M-ship.

"Obfonteri!" 

Kraglin's head whips to the side at Zeede's call. The First Mate is standing in the middle of the hangar, with a dark scowl on his features. A flicker of impatience and annoyance weaves through Kraglin; ever since he was named lead mechanic, Zeede has been strangely hostile towards him, shoving him out of the way in the hall, purposely knocking into his shoulders in the mess, and giving him all sorts of messy and outrageous jobs to do at strange hours of the day-cycle. It's like he's taken it on himself to make Kraglin's life as difficult as possible.

But the Ogords and Yondu are still conversing in the hangar, and he's not going to show disrespect to the First Mate by not heeding his call. He wants to make sure the Captain looks like he's doing a good job, and handling a respectful, hardworking crew. So Kraglin drops what he’s doing and jogs up to Zeede. "Sir?"

"I told you to fix the  _Mendax_ _'s_ hyperdrive yesterday!"

Kraglin scrunches his eyebrows. "I did."

"Then what the hell is this?" Zeede thrusts a piece of machinery, wires dangling, into his chest. "I found this hanging loose!"

Kraglin frowns. It's the capacitor for the hyperdrive. "That weren't the way I left it. This was fine yesterday, I don’t-”

"You callin' me a liar?" the First Mate snarls, not bothering to keep his voice down. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kraglin sees Yondu glance in their direction, and then away again. "What?" Kraglin asks, "No, I didn't say anythin' like that. I'll take-"

"I think you're gettin' too big fer your boots, Obfonteri. This new position is goin' to your head."

Kraglin’s jaw clenches. "No, it ain't-"

Zeede tears the capacitor out of his hands. "Should'a known better than to ask you to fix my ship.” His voice drops to a quieter tone. “Don't know what the Captain was thinking, bringing you on board in the first place, being what you are.”

"What I…?” Kraglin echoes in confusion, then steps closer to the First Mate, lowering his voice as well. “Look, what the hell is yer problem? I ain't done nothin' to ya."

"You don't belong here. You’re a Skrull slave,” Zeede hisses in his ear as he begins to walk away. _“That's_ my problem."

Kraglin's insides turn cold, and he can't stop a scowl from forming on his face. "Ya take that back," he growls, turning. “I ain't no slave."

"Yes, you are. You might be wearing Ravager leathers, but you'll never be anything more than a slave."

Kraglin grips his arm, preventing him from moving forward. "Take it back."

Zeede's fangs glint. "Let go, _boy."_

Kraglin’s hand squeezes. _"Take. It. Back."_

 _"No."_  Whirling, Zeede drives a fist into Kraglin's side. Or tries. Kraglin dodges the hit, letting go of Zeede's arm. Zeede throws the capacitor to the ground, and with a snarl, dives at him. 

Kraglin snarls back, thrusting out with a fist. He catches Zeede in the chin, and purplish red blood spurts from his mouth.

"You son of a whore!" Zeede roars and manages to grip his hand around Kraglin's neck, claws digging into the visible flesh under his chin. He slams him to the floor.

Black spots pop before Kraglin’s eyes, but he manages to get his feet up under Zeede's chest and throws him off. He leaps to his feet and is about to pounce on him, but gasps as he feels a hand clench on the back of his jacket, dragging him backwards.

"Kraglin! What the hell d'ya think yer doin'?"

"Cap'n," Kraglin gasps, turning to face him. His heart sinks in his chest as he glimpses Zeede grinning at him with bloody teeth, as if to say _You’re in for it now._

The Captain’s eyes are dark, his mouth pulled downwards in a disappointed frown. The expression stings Kraglin's heart. Yondu looks to the First Mate. “Zeede, explain.”

"Damn kid attacked me,” Zeede says, wiping a hand across his mouth and approaching Yondu, “I asked him to fix the  _Mendax_  yesterday, and instead I found the capacitor all jacked to shit. When I confronted him, he got angry and attacked me."

Kraglin's eyes bug. "That weren't what happened!"

"Ya callin' yer First Mate a liar, Kraglin?" His head snaps back to the Captain, whose arms are now crossed. He raises an eyebrow expectantly. "Well?"

Kraglin swallows. "I don't wanna, Cap'n, but - but he is. That ain't what happened, I swear."

"Well then. Enlighten me.” Yondu asks, eyes narrowed.

"I fixed the  _Mendax_ yesterday like Zeede asked, sir. The capacitor was fine then. Don't know how it got like that." He nods at the machine on the floor.

"Did ya attack Zeede?"

He swallows again. "Y-Yessir,” he answers. “He - he weren't lyin' 'bout that."

"Why? Ya better have a damn good reason, boy."

"B-because he-" he pauses. The Ogords have come closer, standing behind Yondu. Kraglin lowers his gaze to his boots. "He told me I was jus’ a Skrull slave in a Ravager suit, that I shouldn't be here." Because his eyes are downcast, he misses Yondu's mouth dropping open. 

 _"What."_ Kraglin hears the undercurrent of fury in his Captain's voice and his head snaps up in surprise. Yondu's jaw is tight, his eyes burning. He turns stiffly to his First Mate, who seems oblivious to his growing anger. "Is that what ya said, Zeede?"

Zeede smiles smugly. "Yes. Found out he's a Skrull slave. Wild and unstable, I heard. Shouldn’t be in his position."

Yondu's eyes narrow, and the circuitry on his implant flashes. When he speaks, his voice is roaring, his accent more pronounced than usual.  _"Ah_  was a  _Kree_  slave, ya think Ah shouldn' be  _Cap'n_ , Zeede?"

The entire hangar falls silent. No one dares move. Even the Ogords seem to tense slightly at the outburst.

Zeede's eyes widen drastically, pupils large with fright. He backs up several steps, raising his hands. "N-No, Cap'n. Of course not. I didn't know - I mean-" He looks around, trying to seek help from a fellow crewmate, but finds no savior.

"Bein' a slave ain't got nothin' ta do with nothin'!” Yondu barks. “Kraglin is a hard worker and a good crewman. Ah don't care where he did or didn't come from!" Yondu stalks towards Zeede, hands balled into fists. He's about to fling back his duster to retrieve his arrow, when Aleta reaches out and places a light hand on Yondu's arm.

Yondu freezes mid-step to glare back at her, and their eyes meet. There's some unspoken exchange between the two, and Yondu's posture very slowly relaxes. After a few moments, he straightens, cracks his shoulders, and turns from Aleta to Kraglin.

Taking a firm hold of his upper arm, he pulls him close. "Boy," he growls quietly, "Ya’re gonna fix the  _Mendax_. Then yer confined to the ship, not to go planetside or on missions for a month, on kitchen duty when yer other duties ain’t keepin’ ya. And that's gettin' off easy for attackin' the First Mate.” He pulls him closer, dropping his voice even lower. “Yer lead mechanic now, Krags, ya gotta think!" he says with a shake. "Set a good example fer those under ya."

Kraglin bites his lip and nods. "Yes, Cap’n," he says in a whisper.

Yondu’s heart twinges at the look on Kraglin’s face. He’s all too familiar with that expression – the knowledge that you’ve let someone down that you look up to. He’s seen it in the mirror on his own face more times that he can count, all the times he’s disappointed Stakar. Just like Yondu doesn’t want to fail the Ogords, Kraglin doesn’t want to fail him. _It ain’t yer fault_ , he wants to say. _I ain’t mad at ya._

But hitting a superior officer, no matter how justified the beating was, cannot go unpunished. Yondu can’t show partiality or be perceived as soft. He’ll have a mutiny on his hands if he does that. No great Ravager ship has ever run on sentiment.

Yondu forces himself to scowl. “Good,” he snaps.” He loosens up his hold on the boy and gives him a shove towards the M-ships. “Go.”

Kraglin scoops the capacitor from the floor and jogs in the direction of the  _Mendax_.

Yondu takes a deep breath, exhaling heavily through his nose, and slowly turns back to Zeede. "Kraglin's gonna fix yer ship,” he says gruffly. “I'll have Horuz take a look after he's done to make sure it was done proper." Faster than anyone can think, he jabs his hand out and seizes the front of Zeede's uniform, yanking him so close that their noses nearly touch. "I don’t care if yer the damn First Mate,” Yondu hisses, lips pulling back over his jagged teeth, “If I  _ever_  hear ya talkin' that way about that boy, or any other former slave on board my ship again, ya will be stripped of yer title and I will kill ya myself! _Clear?"_

Zeede nods silently.

"Git outta my sight."

Yondu keeps an eye on Kraglin, but in the months following, there's no further confrontation between him and Zeede. He sees the two of them glaring at each other across rooms, and when they meet in hallways, they look like they want to kill each other. But Kraglin respects Yondu too much to ever act on his impulses again, and Zeede knows that Yondu's threats are not idle ones. Slowly, both fall back into Yondu's good graces, and the incident is all but forgotten.


	11. Deception

The month that Kraglin is confined to the ship seems like years. Near the end of it, he's so antsy that he seriously considers smuggling himself aboard Horuz's M-ship when he goes on a mission but ultimately decides against it.

At last the month is over, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he touches down on Contraxia with Tullk, Half-Nut and Oblo.

Oblo and Half-Nut immediately head towards the bar, and Kraglin starts to follow, but Tullk begins to head in the opposite direction.

"Hey," Kraglin says, jabbing his thumb at their backs, "Bar's this way."

"Not goin' to the bar yet," he hollers over his shoulder. "Gettin' myself another tattoo first!" He stops, boots crunching in the fresh snow. "Wanna come?"

Kraglin looks from Oblo and Half-Nut and back to Tullk, and grins. "Yeah!"

"Belter! Come on."

Tullk leads him down a side street and to a small, nondescript building with a single neon sign in the window. The Terran bursts through the door and holds out his arms wide. "Jian!" he bellows.

A young man with large eyes and long nimble fingers looks up from the counter and grins. "Tullk! My favorite customer. How ya doin', man?"

"Good, good. In the market for some new ink," Tullk says. "And I brought a friend," he says, gesturing to Kraglin.

Jian steps forward and clasps Kraglin's hand. "Jian's the name. Mighty young to be a Ravager, ain't ya?"

"Nah, he's lead mechanic already," Tullk says, hooking an arm around Kraglin's neck and burying his fist in his hair.

Kraglin laughs and pushes away.

Jian chuckles, then rubs his hands together. "All right, Ravagers. Let's get movin'." He points at Tullk. "Knowing you, you already know what you want."

"Yeh know me well," Tullk says with a wink.

"How 'bout you, kid?"

"Uh, I hadn't really thought 'bout it much."

Jian laughs again. "Tullk just dragged you in here, huh? Sounds like him. Well come on this way." Jian beckons to him and guides him over to a series of screens that are lined along one wall. "You can browse through the designs here," he says. "We got thousands of symbols, shapes, creatures, letters in hundreds of languages - all sorts. Just take a look while I'm working on Tullk. Pick out what you like and think about where you want it."

Kraglin nods. "Thanks."

"And he's polite too," Jian laughs as he walks away. "Where'd you  _get_  this kid?"

Kraglin smiles and moves towards the screens, scrolling through the patterns. There’s a serpentine, dragon-like creature that looks cool, so he logs that away in his mind as a _maybe._

He’s about to move onto the religious symbols when he recalls a faint memory. His mother had a tattoo, just below her left ear. Just a small flower-like shape, but Kraglin remembers leaning against her shoulder and tracing a finger along it when he was small. He navigates over to the screen with the different languages, and hesitantly scrolls down to the letter V. There's hundreds of variations of the letter in different languages, but he's drawn to a symbol of vertical and horizontal lines. He presses on it with his finger, enlarging it, and sinks into a seat before the screen to stare at it.

He likes the clean simplicity of it. He’s never seen the language anywhere on any of their travels, and they’ve been to some big cities. This is a plus in his mind – if he hasn’t seen it, chances are other Ravagers haven’t either, so he won’t have to explain the meaning behind it if anyone asks. He’ll just say that he liked the shape.

Several minutes later, Tullk's voice breaks Kraglin out of his thoughts. He turns, and sees his friend is now sporting a blue curved tattoo on the right side of his face, curving around his forehead and eye. He spreads his arms. "Well, what do yeh think?" he asks, a little warily.

"I like it," Kraglin says with a smile, cocking his head.

Tullk grins. "Whatcha gettin', wee man?"

Kraglin gestures at the screen. "I'm thinkin' this. Right here," he taps the space right below his left ear. "Kinda small."

"Good choice," Jian says, and pats the chair Tullk vacated. "Have a seat, kid." He cleans the skin, then goes to apply an anesthetic to the area, but Kraglin stops him.

"Don't want it," Kraglin says.

Jian laughs. "Tattoos hurt, kid. Ya don't gotta be a tough guy in here."

"Naw, it - it _should_ hurt," he says quietly, lowering his eyes.

"Oh," Jian says in a quiet voice, nodding, and Kraglin feels Tullk’s eyes on him. "I see. Well, turn around in yer seat so you can hold onto the back. That'll help you work through the pain."

Kraglin does so, clenching the back of the seat. Jian readjusts his position, and Kraglin closes his eyes as there’s a sharp whining buzz. A second later, he feels the needle puncture the skin just below his ear.

Kraglin grits his teeth against the pain, and then opens his eyes a second later as he hears the scrape of chair.

Tullk sinks into a seat across from him, the area around the tattoo red and raw. He reaches forward and flicks the hair out of Kraglin's eyes. "Yer gonna need a haircut soon, wee man," he says with a grin.

Kraglin lets out a small chuckle.

* * *

Tullk and Kraglin head to the bar after they’re done. Kraglin’s tired, fingers aching from clenching the back of the chair, but he’s happy with Jian’s work. It’s a little bigger than the size of his thumbnail, just below and behind his left earlobe.

Oblo, Half-Nut and Horuz have room at a table saved for them inside the bar.

There are Ravagers in dark blue milling around the place as well – the _Starhawk_ must be in port. Sure enough, Kraglin spies Yondu milling around outside with Martinex and Stakar.

Kraglin and Tullk order themselves some drinks and some food, and then the mechanic listens, laughing, as Horuz and Half-Nut bet on how long it will be until Tullk asks to get the tattoo removed.

“That was one time, damn yeh,” Tullk says, throwing up his hands. “Last time I get a woman’s name on my arse.”

“Poor Jian had to see that?” Kraglin quips, and the entire table roars with laughter, Tullk laughing loudest of all.

They stay in that bar for the better part of three hours, then decide to change buildings. Tullk drags Kraglin over to Yondu, showing off their new ink before heading to another bar three blocks down.

Once there, Kraglin makes a beeline for the back door.

"Oi, where yeh goin'?" Tullk calls at him.

"Takin' a piss!" Kraglin calls over his shoulder and pushes through the door leading outside.

A heavy snow has started to fall. He's feeling warm, though, with alcohol warming his toes, the promise of a card game ahead and the company of his waiting friends. After he's done, he sighs and zips his pants back up. He might even try one of those sexbots later that Tullk has been going on and on about. His cheeks flush blue at the thought.

“Kraglin?”

Kraglin inhales sharply and whirls, nearly slipping in the snow. The voice was female, quiet, but slightly shrill like a child’s - and painfully familiar.

There's no one in sight. He takes a few steps forward. "H-hello? Anybody there?" The voice echoes in his ears, and his fingers drift upward to rest on his new tattoo.

Behind him, the door slams open, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

Whatcha doin', writin' a poem?" Tullk asks with a laugh. "We're startin' the game!"

"Y-yeah, I'm comin," Kraglin says, peering over his shoulder. Tullk turns back inside, and Kraglin has his hand on the door when he hears the voice again. 

The voice comes again, sing-song. "Kraglin, there you are! Come and play with me!"

His head jerks to the left, and he sees a small girl peeking beyond the corner of the building, her little fingers curled around the metal siding. Kraglin's breath catches, his heart grows still in his chest. Her eyes are just like his. "Vara?" he whispers.

She giggles and disappears. "Come on, silly!"

"What'd ya say?" Tullk asks, sticking his head back out.

Oblo peers over his shoulder. "What's takin' him so long?"

"Big brother! Come on!" 

Tullk and Oblo look at one another. "What's a kid doin' out here?" Tullk asks.

The fact that they heard her too cinches it for Kraglin. "Vara!" he shouts, and races towards her retreating form. "Vara, wait! Come back!"  A voice nags at the back of his brain. It can't be her - she's dead. But the hope in his heart that she was still alive, found, and saved is too strong to ignore and propels him forward, faster and faster. He runs after her laughter through the thickening snow, tears pricking at his eyes. He hears Tullk and Olbo dashing after him, far behind.

"Kraggles, come and play with me!"

He gasps. It  _has_  to be her - no one else ever called him that! He sees her small form ahead of him, long dark hair trailing behind her. She giggles, and ducks into an alley between two buildings, close to the docks. "Vara, slow down!"

He turns into the alley, and skids to a sliding halt in the snow. There's a group of people there, with Vara standing at the front. Their postures don't look natural; their heads are cocked strangely, hunched slightly between their shoulders, backs bent. They certainly don't look friendly, and honestly, neither does Vara. He backs up a step, heart turning to ice. 

Her eyes are the wrong color. They're yellow, not blue. She smiles slowly, and her teeth are sharp.

* * *

"Cap'n! Cap'n!" a desperate voice screams, and Yondu whirls, pushing a sexbot off his lap. Stakar and Martinex stand from their seats, eyes drawn to the figures rushing towards them.

Oblo is dragging the staggering figure of Tullk, who has bloody hands pressed hard to the lower half of his face. A red trail is stark against the snow behind them.

"What the hell happened?" Yondu demands.

"Skrulls," Oblo pants. "Jumped us. Knocked Kraglin over the head and took him. Tullk tried to stop 'em, and they cut his mouth open."

"Which way did they go?"

Oblo points behind them. "They were heading for the port."

"Marty, get Tullk up to our med bay," Stakar orders. "The  _Starhawk_  is closer. I'll go with Yondu."

"Yessir."

Stakar has to sprint to catch up with Yondu, who shot off the moment Oblo pointed. 

When they reach the port, Yondu stumbles to a halt. There are dozens of ships, any one of them could be the Skrull ship.

"You take the right, I'll take the left," Stakar says, drawing his gun. 

Yondu whistles out his arrow, and it buzzes agitatedly over his shoulder as he jogs around the ships.

_"Cap'n!"_

Yondu whirls, watching as Kraglin stumbles out from behind a ship at his back. He's out of breath, limping slightly, but doesn't look like he's in bad shape. Yondu runs forward to support him, yelling, "Stakar!" over his shoulder. "He's here!"

Stakar jogs up to them.

"Ya all right, boy?"

"Y-yeah," Kraglin says shakily. "They jumped me, came outta nowhere. Thought I could take 'em, but there were too many. Weren't 'til they split up that I could escape."

"Here, I've got him," Stakar says, taking Kraglin out of Yondu's arms. They back up, out of sight behind a large cruiser. "You keep an eye out."

"Right,” Yondu says, nodding. “They're probably still-"

His voice is cut off as Stakar presses his gun into Kraglin's ribs and fires.


	12. Desperation

It feels as though Yondu’s heart stops beating. Everything within him freezes as he numbly watches Stakar seize Kraglin’s mouth to keep him from screaming as the dying mechanic falls backwards into the snow.

But his years as a battle slave allows this emotional override for only a second. Then his heart resumes beating, climbing into a ferocious rate so that he can hear the blood pumping in his ears. A vicious, fiery whistle grows in his lungs and tears over his lips. The arrow flashes towards Stakar, stopping a hair’s breadth from his throat.

Stakar pauses, jerking his head up to look at Yondu. “It’s not him, boy!” he says, a burst of white flashing behind his eyes. “It’s not him!”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Yondu nearly screams, reaching for the now-convulsing boy. “It’s Krag-” He stops with a gasp. The blood pouring from Kraglin's chest is dark green, and as the last foggy puff escapes his nostrils, the limbs shrink, the skin turns a pale green, the ears elongating as the lifeless eyes turn yellow and bulbous.

He jumps back. "It's a damn  _shifter!"_ He stares at Stakar in horror, whistling the arrow back to hover above his own shoulder. "How’d ya know?"

"The tattoo. Behind his ear. It was gone,” Stakar says, straightening up. “And the timing - it was too perfect. Your crewman said he got hit on the head, right? The boy’d be dizzy, if not seriously wounded. He wouldn’t have been able to escape in that state.” He lets a long breath out, eyes scanning their surroundings. “They have to be close, though, to risk something like this. No ships have taken off in the last hour – their vessel still has to be in port."

Yondu takes a breath, trying to calm his furiously-beating heart. _Ya still got a lot to learn, ya idjit,_ he berates himself. _Good thing Stakar’s here, else I woulda taken the damn Skrull and the real Kraglin would be gone forever._ He turns his eyes to the ships in the port, studying them. His eyes narrow at one, at the far end. There's figures milling in and out of it with quick, edgy movements. "Big one, at the end. What do you think?"

Stakar leans out and fixes his gaze on it. "Yeah, I'd say that's the best bet."

They bury the body quickly in the snow, and creep towards the ship. As they get closer, they see two Skrulls hanging just inside the entrance, their eyes luminous in the shadows of the interior. The other two outside are shifted, taking the forms of a Xandarian and a Krylorian.

"I'll distract them," Stakar says quietly as they near the vessel. "You get aboard and find that boy."

Yondu holsters his arrow and grasps Stakar's arm. "Stakar. About earlier – I-"

Stakar holds up a hand. “Forget it,” he says with the ghost of smile, and pats the side of Yondu’s face once. “Just be careful. Those damn Skrulls are a cunning bunch." The Ravager Captain disappears, and a moment later, there's a loud crashing noise on the other side of the ship. The other two Skrulls shift into the forms of Nova Corps officers, and all four of the Skrull sentries converge to investigate, leaving the entrance temporarily open.

Traversing varied terrain during his years as a battle slave, combined with his natural tree-climbing tendencies from his forested homeworld make scaling the ship and slipping inside easy for Yondu.

It's dark inside, and stiflingly warm. Yondu loosens up his neckerchief as he ducks down a hallway. His eyes dart all around, figuring on places to hide in case he runs into trouble. He’ll be no help to Kraglin if he’s caught or killed. He climbs swiftly up a nearby ladder leading to a high catwalk, to provide him with a greater vantage point.

He follows the catwalk deeper into the ship, until he hears voices ahead. Moving cautiously forward, he finds himself in a dark, multi-level room. He stops in the entrance way, the sweat suddenly frigid on his neck.

The room is filled with large, empty cages. It smells of blood, stale urine and sweat, and overhanging it all, is a thick and unmistakable aura of despair. The walls are gouged on every side by dragging marks of fingernails. Yondu’s mind unwillingly reels back to the Kree’s ships, the holds where he was kept with the other slaves, and a nausea built of fear and anger begins to claw up his throat.

It’s only a scream of pain – Kraglin’s scream - that propels him further inside the room. He promised himself he’d never step foot in a slave hold again, but if it means saving Kraglin, he’ll do it.

He hears more talking below, so he keeps to the edges of the walls, clenching his teeth at the blood-stained cuffs and collars discarded inside the cages. It wasn’t long ago that he’d worn something similar.

There’s another scream - raw, high-pitched and blood-curdling. Yondu’s skin pricks, his heart flies into a panicked rhythm.  _Kraglin!_ Keeping low and behind the cages so he’s not seen, he peers down, and nearly bites his lip through.

Kraglin is stripped bare to the waist and chained by his wrists in such a way that his feet barely touch the floor. His hair is matted with blood and sweat; an indigo stream flows from his mouth, down his chest and drips onto the metal floor beneath him. Bright blue lashes stand out across his chest and shoulders; a whip lays discarded on the floor.

Nine Skrulls surround him. Yondu would whistle them all to hell this instant, but some of them are too close to Kraglin, and Skrulls are quick. One false move and Kraglin could be dead. One of the Skrulls stands closer to Kraglin than the others. He’s taller than the rest, the ridge-like frills on his chin more pronounced, his purple and black suit more ornate than the others’. He must be the leader. He holds an electric prod in one hand and a knife in the other and thrusts the prod into Kraglin’s chest.

The Ravager screams as the current runs through his body, eyes squeezed shut and teeth stained blue.

The prod is removed, and the Skrull snarls something at Kraglin, whose body has fallen slack, breathing hard. The Skrull empire has never officially allowed their native language to be used in standard translator chips, so it only comes in bits and snatches to Yondu's ears, otherwise a harsh and guttural series of throaty noises and clicks. "You will beg, you  _klik_   _klik_ slave. You are  _klik_  of the Skrulls and will  _klik klik klik_ again." He tips Kraglin's head up with the tip of the knife, and Kraglin lets out a small hiss. "You will beg for your life." 

A growl escapes unchecked from Yondu's throat, and a couple of the Skrulls look up. He ducks back quickly into the shadows, holding his breath. In the same instant, he hears Kraglin shout, "I’m a Ravager! Ain't never beggin' to ya filthy fuckin' bastards!" Followed by a noise like he's spitting.

 _"Klik klik klik_  ungrateful  _klik_  slave!" he hears the lead Skrull screech, "You will beg for your life by the  _klik klik_  is  _klik_ with you!" There's a sharp, strangled cry from Kraglin, and Yondu digs his nails into his palms so hard they draw blood.

"Sir, everything is loaded aboard," another Skrull's voice says in Standard. "Shall we take off?"

"Yes," the leader replies in Skrull, "We will  _klik_  the slave to  _klik_  on its actions. I want it to _klik_ before _klik_ it again _._ "

There's the sound of several feet walking away, and the mechanical whir of a door closing. When Yondu feels it's safe to look, he emerges from the shadows and cautiously peeks over the rail. A lone Skrull stands guard, pacing back and forth in front of Kraglin. He jabs at the boy’s side with an electric prod, prompting a yell of pain, then whips a device out of his belt, flicking it open in his palm. It's a laser knife. Hooking the prod back in its belt, the Skrull grips Kraglin's hair in his clawed hand and thrusts his head backwards. In that moment, Kraglin's eyes raise to the catwalk, and catches Yondu's stare.

The mechanic’s eyes widen. Yondu puts his finger to his lips.

With a gleeful cackle, the Skrull brings the laser knife to Kraglin's hairline. The Ravager squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. The room is filled with the smell of burning hair, and then - a sharp whistle.

The Skrull's brain explodes, dying the floor green.

Yondu slides down the nearest ladder and whistles so Kraglin's chains are cut. The mechanic falls into his arms. Half his hair is shorn away, the scalp bright blue and slightly burned in places. "I got ya, boy, I got ya," Yondu murmurs, hugging the mechanic close. "We gotta get outta here."

The ship rocks and both Yondu and Kraglin stumble.

"W-we're takin' off," Kraglin gasps.

 "Shit!" Yondu hisses. "We need to get to the control room and take over. Can ya walk?"

Shakily, Kraglin gets to his feet. He staggers at first but manages to maintain his balance after a few moments. 

"Stay behind me, son," Yondu says, crossing to the door and flipping the switch to open it. "I'll take care a' these bastards." 

There are three Skrulls on the other side of the door; the arrow makes short work of them.

The two Ravagers make their way through the ship slowly, ducking in hallways and keeping to the shadows, Yondu taking down Skrulls as quietly as he’s able to whistle them out of existence.

They manage to keep themselves unnoticed – until they happen upon the lead Skrull at a junction of hallways. His yellow eyes narrow, and he snarls a command in his native language. Ten Skrulls charge Yondu and Kraglin, and they lose sight of the leader in the confusion.

The Captain whistles through his teeth, and the arrow zips, loops and zigzags, puncturing lungs, hearts and heads until the floor is just a mass of bodies under their feet. Yondu looks back at Kraglin, who is clutching the wall for support, looking pale. A Skrull lies dead near him.

“Ya okay, b- _hrk!_ ” Yondu’s voice is cut off as a Skrull grabs him from behind, fingernails digging into the exposed flesh of his throat. He tries to whistle, but the air is being gagged out of his lungs.

There's a savage yell from Kraglin.  _"Let him go!"_

With strength Kraglin shouldn’t have at this point, the mechanic tears the Skrull from Yondu’s back.

The Captain turns, gasping, and watches as Kraglin pummels the Skrull leader into the floor. His eyes are wide, pupils large and dark with adrenaline. The Skrull reaches to his belt, and Yondu's whistle is a split second too late. A knife comes up and slices through Kraglin's side. He cries out, as the arrow severs the Skrull's hand at the wrist, then backtracks and drives itself through its eye socket. 

Yondu catches Kraglin as he falls, tearing off his coat. He rips a strip of cloth from it with his teeth and pads the wound with his neckerchief. "Shit, shit. Hold on, Krags. We're gonna make it, we're gonna get outta this." He raises his head as he hears more footsteps of Skrulls running in their direction.

Yondu’s whistle is deafening. The arrow shoots off and disappears into the depths of the ship, but he can see its echo in his brain as it moves.

He sees the heartbeats and movements of Skrulls all over the vessel, charging, and then scrambling away as they realize their numbers are dwindling. But there's no escape. Ribbons of red light dance all over the ship, impaling the slavers.

Yondu falters as one looks like Tullk, but only for a second. Tullk is aboard the  _Starhawk._

He falters again as a child runs into view - it's Kraglin's sister.

It’s then that Yondu realizes that’s how they must have lured Kraglin in. "Oh, ya - ya damn, rotten _fuckers!"_ His whistle is earsplitting, behind it the anger and thirst for revenge on Kraglin’s behalf. Shifter as it may be, Yondu still wants to close his eyes as the arrow impales the form of the girl, but there's no escaping the image in his brain. He can hear the scream from here, turning from the shrill wail of a child into the gurgling screech of a Skrull shifter.

Once he's satisfied that all of the Skrulls onboard are dead, he pulls Kraglin to his feet and looping his arm about his shoulders, leads him towards the front of the ship, where he saw the control room was. The arrow waits for him there, agitatedly buzzing around the room until he whistles it back into its waiting holster. He seats Kraglin in one of the three chairs, and studies the dashboard. It's hard to make sense of the Skrull's technology, but Yondu finally figures from a holographic star chart that they're moving from Contraxia at a steady pace, on course for the nearest jump point.

He pulls down what he thinks is the radar and sees there's a huge ship converging on his location.  _Shit! Not a mothership!_

A sudden voice booms over the coms all over the ship. "This is Stakar Ogord of the Ravager ship  _Starhawk_. You have two Ravagers aboard your vessel. Halt your ship and prepare for boarding, or we will open fire."

Relief spreads through him, then irritation, just as quickly. "Where's the com?" Yondu growls, eyes flicking all around the dash. "Damn backwards tech! Ah -  _there it is."_ Yondu slams the button down. "Stakar, it's Yondu, come in. Do you read?”

Stakar’s image flickers on a holoscreen to Yondu's right. "Yondu! Thank the gods."

"We need a lift, Stakar. Bring a stretcher, the boy's in bad shape."

He nods. "Copy. Stakar out."

"It's okay, Krags," Yondu says with a sigh. "Stakar's comin' to get us, we’re gonna be home in no time."

Kraglin doesn't reply.

Yondu turns to him, and sees the boy is slumped in his chair, almost sliding off onto the floor. His head is lolled onto his chest, the hand that was tightly plastered to his side now limp.

"Kraglin?" He stands and reaching over, shakes the boy's shoulder lightly. "Krags, wake up." He doesn't stir. "Kraglin? Kraglin, wake up, boy!" His heart plummets as he pushes fingers against the boy's wrist - and feels nothing.  _"Kraglin!"_


	13. Guilt

Stakar rushes aboard the Skrull ship, a medical team hot on his heels. He bursts into the main control room and finds Yondu doing compressions on Kraglin's chest. The boy is laid out on the floor, limp, his bare torso smeared with blood. The Centaurian turns wild, frightened eyes to his former captain. "Help me!" he shouts hoarsely - and at that moment, Kraglin gasps, body arching as he sucks in a wheezing lungful of air. 

"Krags!" Yondu cries, and the boy coughs in response, blood dribbling over his lips as he rolls on his side. "Oh gods, Krags," Yondu says, gathering the boy into his arms. He shakes him gently. "Ya  _sonuvabitch_ , don't ya ever do that again, do y’hear me?" Yondu cradles the boy's head against his shoulder, and Kraglin curls his fingers into one of his shirt’s belt loops, wheezing.

"S-sorry Cap'n," he chokes.

"Shut up, Kraglin. Jus'...jus' shut up, dammit." After holding him a moment longer, he lifts the mechanic bodily into his arms and lies him on the stretcher. "Yer gonna be okay. Jus' stay awake. Yer gonna be fine."

As the medics cart him away, Yondu and Stakar follow. The older man lays a hand across the Centaurian's sagging shoulders. "You okay, son?"

Yondu runs a hand over his face tiredly. "M'fine. Thought - thought he was gonna die."

Stakar pats Yondu's back gently. "That's what I thought when the Kree tried to take you away from us. Do you remember?"

"Yeah," he says, suppressing a shudder. After a moment he glances at Stakar with a reverent smile. “But ya came back fer me."

"And I always will."

* * *

Kraglin wakes to harsh, white lights. He groans and shuts his eyes.

“Hey, I think he’s wakin’ up.”

"Oblo? Issat you?" he asks, his voice hoarse and scratchy. It’s painful to swallow. He tries to open his eyes again and winces. "Too bright."

"Oh, I got the lights. There." The insides of his eyelids darken, and he tentatively opens them. Oblo has his hands clutched along the rail of his medical bed, peering down anxiously at him. His red face breaks into a wide smile as Kraglin’s eyes focus. "Hey, hotshot."

"Hey," Kraglin says weakly, and does his best to smile, but his face hurts. Everything hurts.

"Finally awake, eh, wee man?" Tullk's faint voice says, and Kraglin turns his head to the left - and gasps softly.

The sides of Tullk's mouth, nearly up to his cheekbones, are stitched together. He dabs a rag against his lips, soaking up the saliva pooling there. “Guess ya got that haircut after all, huh?” He grins, gesturing to the mechanic’s head.

Kraglin remembers the sear of the laser knife against his scalp and grimaces. “Yeah, guess so.” He tries to smile, fluff off the pain, but can’t, especially as his eyes focus in Tullk’s wounds. "I'm sorry, this is my fault."

"How do ya figure?"

Kraglin starts, tries to sit up at the voice.

“Lie down, ya idjit!”

“Yessir,” he says, letting his head drop back against the pillow. 

Yondu swaggers up and leans against the side of the cot, peering down into Kraglin’s face. Oblo and Tullk quietly leave, followed by the medic who was standing by in the background. Moments pass in silence, the two of them staring at each other, not knowing quite what to say. Yondu seats himself at his bedside with a soft grunt.

Finally, Kraglin croaks out a couple words. “Ya...ya came fer me.”

"’Course I did, boy," Yondu says with quiet surprise. "What, ya think I'd let them Skrulls take ya?” He shakes his head. “No one steals from me, especially not m'crew. Ravagers always come back fer their own."

Kraglin feels the sting of tears in his eyes and raises his gaze to the ceiling. He feels like he's been alone for so long. First Momma left him, and then his father didn't even have the decency to try and hold on to him. But now he has the Captain, and the crew. _Ravagers always come back for their own._ He has friends now, a family, a home.

_And I put that home in danger,_ he thinks, closing his eyes and drawing his lips tightly together. _Tullk, Oblo – even the Cap’n coulda been killed ‘cuz a’ me._ “I’m sorry sir,” he whispers as he hears the shuff of leather as Yondu gets to his feet.

“What the hell fer?”

Kraglin squeezes his eyes shut. “It was Vara. They took her shape,” he answers in a hoarse, broken voice. “Thought she was alive.” He raises his hands weakly and digs his palms into his eyelids. “I’m such a damn fool! Tullk could’a got killed, and you-”

“Stop,” Yondu snaps, pulling his hands from his face. “Ya were taken in by a shifter. Happens to the best. Happened to _me_ , thought one of ‘em was _you!_ Good thing Stakar was thinkin’ straight, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to save yer skinny ass.”

“I shoulda known though,” Kraglin protests. “Vara is _dead-”_

Yondu places his hands on either side of Kraglin’s face so he can’t look anywhere else except into his ruby eyes. “Stop,” he says gently, “Stop. Don’t beat yerself up, Krags. That’s what Skrulls _do_. It’s what the Kree did to me, in their own ways. Give ya what ya want most, lure ya in, give ya hope, then once ya taste it, rip it away and break ya - drag ya down, deeper into their grasp than ya were before. They’re manipulating, unfeeling cold-hearted bastards. In those ways, Skrulls is worse than the Kree.” He sighs deeply. “What I’m tryin to say is that it ain’t yer fault, boy. Ya gotta stop thinkin’ it is. Yer gonna make mistakes, it’s jus’ a part a’ life. No one holds this against ya. I sure as hell don’t. What counts is whatcha do next. Ya hear me?”

Kraglin takes in a wheezing breath and nods. “Yessir.”

“Good.” Yondu taps his cheek, then turns to walk away.

"Thank you, Cap'n," Kraglin calls softly after him, just loud enough for him to hear.

The boots stop. "Jus' get some rest, boy. Gods know the ship'll go to hell without ya to fix everythin'." There's a laugh in his voice, and Kraglin cracks a small smile.

* * *

Heading straight from the med bay, Yondu makes his way to his expansive quarters, where Stakar and Martinex are waiting, along with Aleta and the android, Mainframe.

"Thanks fer comin'," Yondu says. "Ya hear anythin'?"

Stakar shakes his head. "Nothing of note. Not yet."

"Shit." Yondu slams his palm on the back of a chair. "How the hell did they _find_ him? I can't have Skrulls poppin' up every which way and tryin' to take or kill my crew!"

"Does the boy have enemies?" Aleta asks.

Yondu looks at her sidelong, eyes narrowed. "Whatcha mean? As in, among the crew?"

She nods.

"Dammit. I didn't even consider that a possibility. Everybody likes Kraglin.” _Well,_ he thinks with a frown, _most everybody._ The thought twists his gut.

"Mainframe, pull up the _Eclector’s_ transmission log,” Stakar orders.

“Connecting.”

Yondu nods in thanks, then bites his lip, lifting his eyes to the holoscreens above them as they fill with line after line of transmissions.

Martinex stands next to him, scanning the screens for anything suspicious. “How’s the kid?”

“He’ll be fine,” Yondu answers absently as he scans the screens. “He’s tough. Hasn’t been on the crew long but he has the makings of a great Ravager.”

“Sounds familiar,” Martinex replies with slight smile at him, then says, “Stop. Mainframe, go back on this screen.”

She does so.

"That." he says, pointing to the screen to his right.

"The hell?" Yondu murmurs, staring at the line Martinex is indicating. He pulls up the details of the transmission. It’s scrambled, sent from an unknown number to an undisclosed location. 

"Mainframe, can you unscramble that fer me?" he asks, turning to the android.

She snorts. "Please. What do I look like?" Her eyes flash, lines of code running across them at lightning speed. She opens her mouth after a minute, and a recording of the call comes out in place of her voice.

What sounds like a Skrull speaks first.  _How did you access this channel?_

Another voice speaks, garbled and masked.  _Not important. Does the name Kraglin Obfonteri mean much to you?_  

Yondu grinds his teeth hard.

_Perhaps. What do you know?_

_I know where he's going to be in three days._

_What do you want?_

_I want him off our ship._

There’s a hushed background sound of what might be other Skrulls conversing, then: _Location._

_Contraxia. He's with Yondu Udonta's Ravager crew, flying maroon colors._

"That is the end of the transmission," Mainframe says, eyes clearing. “Do you want me to replay?”

“Yeah,” Yondu growls before anyone else can answer. She does so, and he listens to the intonation and accent of the voice, trying to pick out any specific speech patterns, but the voice is too garbled.

"Can ya find out who made the call?" Even without verbal tells, he has a suspicion, but doesn't dare to say it aloud.

"Affirmative. Tracing...it was made from a private holopad owned by..."

Yondu's jaw tightens.

"Gralik Vakoosa."

Yondu's jaw slackens. That's not the name he was dreading. "Gralik, huh?" He’s been on the mechanics team for a while, one of Yondu’s first recruits. Not the brightest or most motivated individual, but Horuz used to rely in him quite a bit before Kraglin came along, and he did grumble when Kraglin was promoted. But Yondu would never have guessed his jealousy would run deep enough to turn his fellow crewman into the _Skrulls._ "Zeede," Yondu barks into his wrist com.

The First Mate's voice crackles back at him. "Capt'n?"

"There any crew off the ship?"

"Checking…No, all vessels and crew accounted for.”

"Good. Keep it that way. And Zeede.”

“Sir?”

His voice drops to a low snarl. “Find me Gralik Vakoosa."

* * *

A short time later, Yondu approaches Airlock 2. Zeede has Gralik in his grasp.

“Cap,” Gralik says, struggling against the First Mate. “What’s happening-”

His voice is cut off as Yondu backhands him across the face so hard that the crewman nearly loses his balance. “Don’t ya play me, boy! Ya set up one of yer mates to be captured!”

The man’s green eyes go wide. “Wh-what?” He splutters. “What are you talk-”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” Zeede hisses, shaking him, digging his claws into his shoulders until the crewman cries out.

“But I don’t!” Gralik protests. “Please!” He cries, tearing away from Zeede and grabbing the folds of Yondu’s duster, “Please, Cap’n, I don’t know what you think I did but I’m innocent, I-”

Yondu kicks him away. “Don’t ya lie to me! We found yer transmission to the Skrulls! Ya broke the Code, ya dealt with slavers!”

“S-Skrulls?” Gralik gasps, blood dripping from his torn lip, “No, I’d never!”

“Then explain how the transmission ended up on yer holopad!”

Gralik stares from Yondu to Zeede. “What? That’s not - no – I was _framed!”_

“Open the airlock,” Yondu orders.

“No! No, Cap’n!” Gralik cries, stumbling to his feet. “You gotta believe me, I’d never-”

“Three crew coulda been killed or worse today ’cause a you!” Yondu snarls, grabbing his collar. “If it weren’t you, then who was it? Huh? Tell me that!”

Gralik doesn’t reply, eyes wide and horrified. Instead, he looks between Yondu and Zeede, and bolts, bowling over the First Mate in his haste to flee.

A sharp whistle, and the arrow flies from Yondu’s holster. It drives itself between Gralik’s shoulder blades and bursts through his chest. The man is dead before he hits the floor.

“Wouldn’a run if he was innocent,” Zeede growls, getting to his feet and dusting his knees off. He takes a step forward, then hesitates, looking back at Gralik. “Jus’ the same, Capt’n…what if he was?”

“Found the proof on his private holopad,” Yondu says, coming to stand over Gralik’s still form. “Transmission to the Skrulls, tellin’ ‘em where Kraglin was gonna be.”

“Thought Gralik was actin’ kinda strange, now that I think about it. Shifty, kinda.” He looks down at the Captain. “Shit. Do ya think they implanted Obfonteri with a tracker?”

“No, he was clear. Had the medics and techs sweep Kraglin as soon as he was stable.” He shakes his head and turns from the dead body. “Sonuvabitch. Get this traitor outta here.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

* * *

The _Starhawk_ and the _Virago,_ Aleta’s ship, stay within close range of the _Eclector_ for the following couple weeks in case the Skrulls decide to retaliate.

Fortunately, things are quiet. It’s not even clear if the Skrulls realize one of their ships has been cut off and is missing, although things of that nature do not generally go unnoticed by the Skrull empire.

Kraglin hears that the Ogords are leaving, and against the doctor’s wishes, makes his way to the hangar to pay his respects. He lingers in the wide doorway, watching Yondu say goodbye.

He grasps hands with Aleta, who smirks at him and softly taps his jaw with her fist. He smiles as he exchanges words with Mainframe. He trades flips of the middle finger with Martinex, and they laugh, then grip each other’s shoulders, pulling forward to rest their foreheads together.

Stakar is last. He embraces the Captain tightly, clapping his back, and says something for his ears only, to which Yondu ducks his head, almost shyly, and nods with a smile on his lips.

“Kraglin, what the feck are yeh doin’ outta the med bay?” Tullk’s voice rings across the hangar – Kraglin didn’t notice him hanging off to the side, in the shadow of an M-ship.

Kraglin flinches so violently he nearly loses his balance. He tries to duck back into the hall to hide, but it’s too late – Yondu’s already spotted him and is moving in his direction with large, quick strides.

“Krags, what the hell, boy.” He doesn’t sound angry, just annoyed if anything.

“Jus’ wanted to say thanks to Cap’n Ogord, sir. Fer – fer helpin’ me, ya know.” He averts his gaze and gives a shrug of his shoulder.

Yondu snorts but jerks his head towards the hangar. “Well, go on, then.”

He tries to stand tall as he can, but his side is still recuperating and it’s not easy to stay straight on his feet as he approaches. His steps slow as he nears, his heart hammering. “C-Cap’n,” Kraglin says, tapping his fist against his chest and bowing his head slightly. Under Stakar’s imposing stare, he ducks his head and his words come out in a stumbling rush. “Jus’ – jus’ wanted to thank ya fer…fer helpin’ save me and takin on the Skrulls and…and well. Thank ya, sir.” Heat flushes his face, he feels like an idiot.

Stakar steps closer, and Kraglin looks up in surprise as the Ravager puts a hand on his shoulder. “Ravagers always come back for their own, boy.” He leans in a little closer. “You seem like a good crewman. Honest, loyal. Yondu cares about you. Don’t make him regret it.”

Kraglin’s eyebrows draw down subconsciously. “Never, sir.”

Stakar’s impassive face betrays a soft look. “Do me a favor, will ya?”

“Uh – sure. I’ll - I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Watch Yondu’s back, huh? I can’t be around all the time.” To Kraglin’s shock, Stakar gives him a small wink, a smile, and turns and walks away, Aleta on one side, and Martinex on the other.

Yondu comes up alongside Kraglin. “Give Charlie and Krugarr my best,” he calls after them.

Stakar raises a hand in farewell, and turns his head slightly to smile over his shoulder.

Once their M-ships have disembarked, Yondu claps Kraglin’s shoulder and steers him towards the door. “A’ight, boy. Back to med bay with ya.”

They return to the doctor, and Yondu watches as the medic hooks Kraglin back up to his monitors. He lets out a chuckle. “Ya know, yer gonna hafta do somethin’ ‘bout that hair,” he says, pushing the mechanic’s head gently. “Shave the other side, maybe. Else yer gonna end up lookin’ like Half-Nut.”


	14. Ego

A month or so later, there's some commotion in the hangar when Yondu returns from a private mission with Zeede.

Kraglin looks over a catwalk alongside Horuz to see what all the fuss is about, and he catches sight of the Captain carrying a small girl in his arms. She has light pink downy fur and large luminous eyes. Little whiskers protrude from atop her eyes and large ears, and she clutches a small bag of toys in her furry hands.

He and Horuz exchange looks. _A kid?_

The girl stays on board the _Eclector_ for about a week. When she’s not by the Captain’s side, she’s in a little room just off his quarters. The crew is given strict instructions not to touch her, and Kraglin hears the word “cargo” slip from Yondu’s tongue a few times concerning her, which gives him pause and an uneasy feeling in his gut. _I thought Ravagers weren’t supposed to deal in people, ’specially kids. It’s against the Code. But,_ he thinks, _the Cap’n would never break the Code. He must have a good reason fer why she’s here._

Seevah is sitting at a table in the mess. She’s quiet for once; usually she’s a little chatterbox, always asking questions. Yondu sits nearby, studying a holopad while he eats from a can of beasties. Hesitantly, Kraglin approaches him. "Can I join ya, Cap?"

Yondu grunts noncommittally, and the mechanic sits. He fidgets, taking a couple slurps of soup before speaking. "Um. Sir?" Kraglin asks.

"Yeah, Krags," Yondu says distractedly, swiping his finger against the holopad and leaving a greasy smear.

"Jus’ wonderin’,” he says in a low voice. “What's with the kid?”

Yondu glances at him briefly. "Takin' her to her father. Her momma died, and he's payin' us good money to pick her up and bring her home."

His shoulders relax a little. _Well, I guess it ain’t like it’s slavery or somethin’. We’re jus’ takin’ the kid home to her daddy._ He tries to shrug off the remaining apprehension, but it lingers. He shakes his head at himself. _The Cap’n knows what he’s doin’. He’d never go against the Code. If we’re jus’ takin’ the kid home, then that’s that._ He forces himself to be content with the answer, and he and his Captain finish their meal in silence.

* * *

Kraglin starts awake, hand groping for his blaster in the darkness, and looks up to see Yondu standing over him. "Come on, boy,” he says. “I need a pilot."

 _It’s the end of Third Watch. Where the flark are we goin’ at this time a’ the Day Cycle?_ He stifles a yawn as he gets to his feet, picking his way around the Ravagers lying between him and the door. "Yessir."

In the hallway, a sleepy-eyed Seevah is waiting, clutching a plush toy to her chest. Her small bag of playthings is hanging from a cord looped about her wrist. Yondu scoops her into his arms. "C'mon, darlin'. We're takin' ya to yer daddy."

Kraglin heads to the hangar, where he fires up his ship, the _Cawl._ He pats her hull and smiles fondly at her red wingtips before climbing the ladder inside, followed by Yondu and Seevah.

The _Eclector_ is skirting the edges of a system that Kraglin has never heard of, and they set course for a planet that’s not listed in any of their star charts. As they break through the atmosphere, they’re greeted by fields of red dust and rock. Tall spires loom on the horizon, and as they draw near, they see they are made of rock and plantlife. The surroundings quickly become beautiful, exquisite and brightly colored, like something out of a dream. Everything seems to surround a gigantic, castle-like structure of ornate and intricate design.

“Touch down there,” Yondu says, indicating a wide platform surrounded on three sides by flowers. A figure comes out of the castle on the fourth side as they approach, a cloak billowing off its shoulders.

Kraglin sets the _Cawl_ down gently. Seevah is wide awake now, stretching in her seat to try and see out the windows. “Is my daddy nice?” she asks, swinging her clawed feet as she cranes her neck around Yondu’s seat.

“Uh, yeah. Sure is, sweetheart,” Yondu says, unbuckling. “Come on, out ya go.” He unstraps her from her seat and lifts her down, handing her the bag of toys. “Come with, Krags,” he says. “Need another pair a’ eyes in case this goes sideways.”

Kraglin checks his blaster and flicks the safety off before following Yondu and Seevah down the tractor beam and onto the planet’s surface.

The figure from the castle is standing just beyond the ship. It’s a man, with greying hair and a kind face. His face seems to fluctuate slightly in appearance, become a little fuzzier, his beard a little fuller, and Kraglin starts. _A_ _Skrull?_ He thinks wildly, but relaxes a bit once Yondu approaches the man, leaving Seevah with him for the moment. _No, can’t be. Cap’n would never do business with Skrulls or any other slavers. Must be a different race that can shift._

“Welcome to my planet, Yondu Udonta,” the man says, eyes darting towards Seevah, then up to Kraglin. “Hello, my name is Ego.” He flashes pearly teeth at him.

Yondu snaps his fingers, drawing Ego’s attention back to him. “Made the transfer yet?”

The man reaches into his vest, and Kraglin’s fingers stray to his blaster as he pulls Seevah behind him slightly. “Don’t worry,” the man says, noticing the motion, “Just getting my account information to transfer the units.” He pulls out a small holopad and wiggles it in his hand. “Transferring the units now,” he says, tapping the screen a few times.

There’s a soft _ping_ at Yondu’s wrist, and he grins. He looks back at Kraglin, and nods. Kraglin releases Seevah and nudges her forward gently. “Go on, darlin’.”

Seevah is shy at first, but Ego kneels down and opens his arms. At the man’s encouraging, bright smile and sparkling eyes, she giggles and runs to him. “Daddy!”

Ego holds her tightly and runs a hand over her furry head. “Seevah.”

There’s nothing malicious in his voice, nothing in his demeanor or posture that should give Kraglin the shivers. But he gets them anyway; a sort of creepy, flesh-crawling feeling that he can’t seem to shake. Something about him just screams _dangerous_. But then again, they do a lot of deals and jobs with murderers, smugglers and criminals, so Kraglin forces the uneasy feeling down again.

Unlike him, Yondu is all smiles as he claps Kraglin on the shoulder. “Come on, boy.”

“Captain,” Ego calls after him, leaving Seevah. “Wait a moment.”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind….” Ego pulls Yondu aside, and they converse quietly. At the end of their conversation, Ego hands Yondu another small holopad, and smiles warmly at him. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Kraglin begins to climb up the ladder when he hears Seevah calling, “Wait, wait.” He ducks his head slightly, watching as Seevah tugs on Yondu’s duster. “Mr. Captain, thanks for taking care of me. This is for you.” She presses one of her toys into his palms, a little plastic bit of nothing shaped like a six-legged animal from her home planet.

“Uh. Thanks.” Yondu smiles crookedly at it.

It’s not until years later that Kraglin sees the figurine again, on Yondu’s control console of their ship.

* * *

It turns out that Ego paid handsomely for Seevah to be returned to him. _Very_ handsomely. The crew has never been this well off. The booze flows, everyone has extra spending money, and the crew is happy.

Everyone except Kraglin. At least it seems that way to him. There’s something weird going on, something doesn’t quite feel right. It turns out the Ego had more than just one kid. He had several, and he’s tasked Yondu to pick up as many as he’s willing to.

Over the course of a year, there’s eight children that they deliver to Ego. Seevah is followed by Niti, Daara, K’achatl, Voola, and Xander. They’re all from different races, all born of different mothers that have died or gone missing under mysterious circumstances.

Kraglin doesn’t always accompany the Captain down to Ego’s planet; sometimes it’s Zeede, sometimes Horuz. Yondu seems happy to deliver the children, and says repeatedly that they’re taking the kids home to their father.

But after they deliver the seventh child, Rathill, Yondu starts acting strange. Fidgety, edgy, almost nervous-like. Kraglin pilots when they deliver the eight child, a little boy named Evir. When they do so, Yondu is uncharacteristically quiet – so much so that it makes Kraglin nervous. The mechanic keeps stealing glances at his Captain, wondering what might be wrong. He doesn’t know Centaurian physiology, but it doesn’t _look_ like Yondu is sick or anything. But his eyes are dark, his posture stiff, his movements stiff and jerky when he _does_ move.

Kraglin looks back at the child briefly, then turns back to the windshield. He still doesn’t understand how one man got around to so many planets so far apart from one another, and in what seems to be a pretty short amount of time – all the children they’ve picked up are within three years’ age of each other at most. But, he supposes, _they’ve_ picked up all the children in under a year, so he supposes Ego is just a player that hooks up with someone wherever he goes.

That being said, how did he know the women were pregnant, that they died, and how did he know the exact whereabouts and names of all his children?

Kraglin shakes his head. Thinking about _how_ and _why_ is making his head spin. _Best to just leave it alone, it’s just a job._ He looks back at the child again. Evir is probably the sweetest of the children they’ve picked up. He’s soft spoken and obedient, and likes to draw things, so that kept him occupied during his stay on the _Eclector_ and out of the Ravager crew’s way. He’s currently sitting in the seat behind Yondu, doodling on a holopad that Yondu gave him. Sometimes he hums a soft, nonsensical little tune through the blowholes on his face, but is otherwise quiet.

They’re about to enter the planet’s atmosphere when Evir suddenly asks, “Does he love me?”

Yondu starts violently, as if shaken out of a deep sleep, and stares back at the boy. “What? Who?”

The boy blinks his four purple eyes at him. “My Dadda. Does he love me?”

Kraglin glances furtively at the Captain, and sees him swallow, hard.

“Y-yeah, boy. Sure he does.” He clears his throat, and unbuckles from his seat to move into the one next to Evir. “Uh, hey. Listen, kid,” Kraglin hears him say. “If ya don’t feel safe with yer…yer _Dadda_ at any point, and ya want me to come and pick ya back up, ya jus’ press this little button on this communicator and I’ll come getcha, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy replies softly, and Yondu appears again at Kraglin’s elbow, sliding into his seat. “Here, I drew this for you,” Evir says, and the holopad slides into view. Yondu takes it, and Kraglin glances at the pad.

It’s a picture of Yondu, Evir, and what Evir must think his father looks like. In the background are other Ravagers – one of them has fuzzy brown hair sticking up on his head, and Kraglin assumes that must be him. He smiles softly, but it fades quickly. ‘ _If ya don’t feel safe...jus’ press this little button and I’ll come getcha.’_ He sneaks a look at the Captain, but he’s staring at the holopad, an unreadable expression on his face. _What do you think’s goin’ on, Cap’n?_ he wonders. _Are the kids in danger?_ He bites his lip, and turns back to the front. He spots the spires of Ego’s castle ahead. “Prepare for descent.”

Yondu doesn’t move until they land, and even then, seems to hesitate. “Okay.” He breathes in and out, deeply, as if trying to calm himself. “C’mon kiddo.” Yondu slowly gets to his feet and unbuckles Evir, flinching as he the boy slips his hand into his own. He stares down at the activated tractor beam, again hesitant.

“Want me to come, with, Cap?” Kraglin asks, shifting to unbuckle from his seat.

“No. No, I’m good, Krags,” comes the quiet reply.

“Goodbye, Mister Kraglin,” Evir waves as they’re lowered down.

“G’bye, Evir,” he says, raising a hand. His gut clenches apprehensively as the boy slips out of view. He turns on the exterior cameras and watches as the delivery is made. Same old thing, Ego makes the transfer, hugs the kid, stares at them, and hands Yondu a pad with a new planetary address and a name.

But this time, Ego is the one who departs first, and Yondu stops him.

Ego waves his son ahead, into the field of flowers, and Kraglin watches as the child laughs, chasing the jewel-colored bubbles floating there. Ego and Yondu begin talking to one another. “Wish the damn cameras had sound,” he mutters, crossing his arms. He squints at their faces, trying to make out the words by reading their lips, but it’s useless – they’re not speaking Xandarian anyway.

Ego and Yondu converse for several minutes. At one point, Yondu steps forward, obviously angry, and Ego gives him a surprised look – then laughs. He gives the Captain a condescending pat on the shoulder and says something that makes the Captain go as stiff as ice. Then Ego walks away, following Evir.

Yondu just stands there, staring, and keeps standing there until Ego and Evir are out of Kraglin’s sight. The Captain takes one step in their direction, hand moving suspiciously like he’s going for his arrow, then he stops, and slowly turns back to the ship.

The tractor beam is activated, and Kraglin turns in his seat, watching as the Captain rises into view. He steps rigidly on board, his expression distant, blank. Kraglin shifts uneasily as Yondu seats himself numbly in the copilot’s seat. On the dash lies the holopad that Evir had drawn on.

Yondu reaches for it, and Kraglin notices his fingers are trembling. Of course, he doesn’t mention this. After staring down at it for a few moments, the Captain raises his head and looks out through the windshield, eyes focusing on nothing. They’re wet. A flash of light goes through his implant. His face hardens, teeth grinding. His grip on the holopad tightens, and keeps on tightening until his knuckles are white through the blue flesh. The screen cracks.

Kraglin jumps slightly at the noise, and turns concerned eyes to from the pad to Yondu’s face. “C-Cap’n?” he asks timidly.

“What?” the word comes in a low growl.

“Um, y-ya seem…I mean, uh. Are – are ya okay?”

“The hell kinda question is that?” Yondu snarls, rounding on him.

Kraglin leans back slightly in his seat. “’M sorry sir, ya jus’ seem-”

“Seem _what?”_ he snaps.

“Outta sorts,” he replies in a quiet voice, wide-eyed. He hurriedly drops his gaze and turns back to the controls. “Sorry, I- nevermind. I’ll take us back to the _Eclector_ , Cap’n.” He sets a course for home, not daring to look at Yondu, who is still staring at him.

He feels the Captain finally tear his gaze away, but Kraglin doesn’t dare meet his eyes again or even glance in his direction. Something is wrong. Anger, and an emotion that Kraglin can’t identify radiate from his Captain like scorching heat. It makes his entire body tense, edgy. Something is very, _very_ wrong.

If Yondu wants to share, if he thinks it important enough to divulge, Kraglin is all ears. But there’s no way in hell he’s going to push his Captain into giving him an explanation for his actions. Might as well throw himself out an airlock.

The only words Yondu speaks before disembarking from the _Cawl_ is that they have one more child to pick up, and that he will be the last. The coordinates lead to a backwater planet in a remote star system called _Terra._


	15. Peter

Kraglin stands in the med bay, looking down at the skinny little Terran boy they picked up a few hours ago. He put up so much of a fight that they had to sedate him just to put in the translator chip. He subconsciously rubs his arm where the boy kicked him.

Yondu and Zeede are out in the hallway, talking. Well, arguing. Loudly. Zeede isn’t happy, and for once, Kraglin finds himself seeing the First Mate’s point of view.

 _I don’t get it. What's so special 'bout this kid?_  He wonders. He'd asked Yondu if he wanted him to pass word to the Navs to set a course for Ego's planet, but the Captain had almost bitten his head off at the suggestion. "No," he'd growled. "We ain't takin' him to his  _father_." The word had been spit from Yondu's mouth like it was the foulest poison. "We're keepin' him." Kraglin had let it go at that; Yondu didn't seem eager to explain himself or talk anymore about the subject.

Kraglin takes a step closer to the kid, bending slightly to study him. _Peter Quill._ His hair is a brownish shade of red, and his skin is on the light side - sort of like his own, but with red undertones instead of blue. A dark purple bruise circles his left eye, and both eyes are still puffy - he'd already been crying up a storm when they'd brought him aboard. The bone structure of his face is slightly different, but besides that, Kraglin can't see any striking outward differences that would warrant him being useful or valuable.  _Cap'n must know somethin' 'bout Terrans that I don't_ , he thinks with a shrug, and turns as he hears the med bay doors open.

"He awake yet?"

"Not yet, sir."

Yondu grunts and walks over to the child. He taps his cheek with the back of his hand. “C’mon. Rise n’ shine, boy.”

There’s a small, whimpering groan as Peter stirs. His hand goes behind his ear to rub where the translator chip was inserted. He rises into a sitting position, holding up another hand to keep the overhead lights out of his eyes. As his vision clears, he gasps and backs as far up the cot as possible, perching on the pillow, back shoved against the wall, trembling. Fresh tears spill down his cheeks.

Kraglin can’t help but feel bad for the kid, and steps forward. “It’s okay, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he says, putting up his hands in what he hopes is a non-threatening manner.

The boy’s eyes grow wide and round. “I – I can understand you!” he gasps.

“Tha’s right, boy,” Yondu says. “Now git down off a’ that bed.”

He makes himself smaller, crushing himself even further against the wall. “What’d you do to me?” he asks, slapping a hand behind his ear “You probed me and stuck needles in my brain n’ stuff, didn’t you!”

“The hell ya talkin’ ‘bout, boy?” Yondu demands, putting his hands on his belt and exchanging looks with Kraglin. “All we did was put a standard translator chip under yer skin.”

“Yeah, we ain’t gonna – probe ya or nothin’,” Kraglin says, making a face.

“And we’ll kill anyone that tries to,” Yondu snaps. “Now git off a’ that damn bed. Or I’m gonna haul ya off it.”

The boy’s face scrunches up, and turns red. His brows draw down and his eyes narrow. “M-my daddy is gonna come and get me! And when he does-”

“Yer father ain’t comin’,” Yondu says, turning.

“Yes, he _is!”_ the boy screams, standing. “My Mom said he would! She said he’s from the stars, and he’s an angel-”

A snarling, mirthless laugh tears from Yondu’s throat, and he rounds on the boy. “An _angel!_ Well I been out here a long time, _boy._ Seen a lot a’ things, but I ain’t never seen no _angels.”_

Peter’s face falls, lip quivering. “You…you haven’t?”

“Not a one.”

Peter widening eyes fill with tears, and he sinks down onto the cot, beginning to cry again.

The Captain makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and mutters something under his breath, then glances at Kraglin. In the mechanic's eyes, he sees nothing but sympathy as he stares at the boy. Yondu sighs, rolling his eyes. "Kraglin, I don't got time fer this. Why don'tcha take the kid, show him around."

Kraglin jerks his head towards Yondu. "M-me?"

The Captain turns, raising an eyebrow. "What, ya think ya can't handle a lil' kid?"

"No, that ain't what I-"

"Good. Quill!” Yondu barks, stepping closer to the boy. Peter stares up at him, trying in vain to dry his eyes. “Ya listen to me, boy,” he growls. “M’name is Yondu Udonta, and I’m the Cap’n of this here ship. When I brought ya aboard, my crew wanted to _eat_ you!”

Kraglin shoots a glance at his Captain. Zeede and Taserface had joked about him being _bite-sized_ , he remembers, but he doesn’t recall anyone actually threatening to _eat_ the kid. But he stays quiet, letting the Captain continue. Peter listens with ever-widening, fear-filled eyes.

“They never tasted Terran before. But I told ‘em no. I saved yer life. So ya gotta do what I say, and behave yerself – or else I might jus’ let ‘em have their way. Ya hear me?”

Lip quivering, Peter nods vigorously. “Now ya mind Krags here,” Yondu says, slapping a hand on the mechanic’s shoulder. “And don’t make no trouble.” Without another word, Yondu leaves the med bay.

As soon as he’s gone, a fresh round of tears begins, and Peter curls into a ball, sobbing into his arms.

“Aw shit," Kraglin murmurs, running his fingers through his hair. He sighs and looks around. He spies the boy's backpack on the counter on the other side of the room - he'd snatched that up before any of the other Ravagers could rummage through it. Beside it is that funny blue and silver box with a u-shaped piece attached by a cord. Peter had clutched to that tighter than anything. Even sedated, it'd been mildly difficult to get it out of his hands. Kraglin crosses to the counter and slings the backpack over one shoulder and carefully picks up the box, and takes it back over to the crying boy. 

"Hey, Peter," he says softly. "Here, maybe this'll make ya feel better."

Peter sniffles and raises his head. His red-rimmed eyes fall on the box, and widen. Faster than Kraglin can blink, he's lunged forward and torn it out of his hands. He slips the u-shaped piece over his ears – _oh, they’re headphones,_ Kraglin realizes - and presses one of the thick buttons on the box with a loud click. His eyes remain wide for a second, then his shoulders relax, and he rubs a palm against his eyes. He slips the headphones down to rest around his neck, and raises his eyes to Kraglin's. "You didn't break it."

"No, 'course not,” he says indignantly. He slides the backpack over his shoulder. "Here, kept this safe from the other guys, too."

The boy pulls it close and wraps his arms around it. "Thanks," he whispers with a loud sniffle. "What's your name?"

"Kraglin Obfonteri."

"Kraglin?"

"Yep."

Peter's face scrunches up. "That's a weird name."

"Hey, Peter's a weird name too," Kraglin says with a smirk. "Listen, ya wanna get outta the med bay and see the ship, since yer gonna be stayin' here?"

Peter shakes his head. "What do you guys want with me? I'm just a kid."

"Tha's up to the Cap'n."

Peter stares up at him in silence, studying him for a few moments, then asks quietly, _"Y-you_ don’t want to eat me, do you?”

“What? No! Ya’d probably taste terrible anyway,” he says with a wink.

The ghost of a smile flits across the boy’s face. “So…so I’m on a spaceship? And you guys are aliens?"

He shrugs. "Guess so. Guess that means yer an alien too."

"No, I'm not. I'm Human."

"Whatever, kid," Kraglin says, rolling his eyes. "Well, come on. I got stuff to do, I can't wait fer ya all Day-Cycle.” He turns and begins to walk out the door, stopping halfway to it to make sure the kid is following.

Peter slides off the cot onto the ground, pulling his backpack over both shoulders. He keeps the box clutched tightly in his fingers. "How old are you?" he asks, staring up at him.

"Uh, sixteen."

"Did they capture you, too, when you were a kid?"

"Capture? No, no. Cap'n saved me. See, he might be scary – well, he can be downright terrifyin’ - but he takes care a’ his crew," Kraglin says, continuing out of the med bay and down the hall. He stops a few yards away when he realizes he's not being followed. He turns to see Peter standing just outside the doorway, staring wide-eyed at something down the corridor. He turns, and sees there’s a viewing port just across the way.

“Ya wanna see outside?” Kraglin asks, crossing over to it and beckoning to the boy.

In response, Peter nods and rushes to his side, pressing his nose and hands up against the glass. “Wooow,” he says in a long, drawn out breath.

Kraglin looks too. There’s nothing to see besides stars and some swirling purple clouds of space debris, but he supposes it is kinda pretty.

“This is so cool,” Peter says.

“Yeah, it is, ain’t it. Yer gonna see a lot a cool stuff as a Ravager.”

“Ravager?”

“Yeah, this is a Ravager ship.”

“What are you guys? Like, space pirates?”

 Kraglin opens his mouth to deny that idea, but closes it and shrugs. “Yeah – I guess that’s pretty close.”

“Wow,” he says again, softly.

To Kraglin’s relief, Peter’s tears have stopped flowing, and aside from the occasional loud sniffle, he’s doing better. Kraglin takes him around the ship, trying to keep out of other Ravagers’ paths, and shows him the engines, the mess, the hangar and docking bay, and the showers – everything that he thinks Peter might need to know about at the moment.

Peter grows quiet as Kraglin guides him towards the sleeping quarters, hugging his box to his chest.

"What is that thing, anyway?”

"This? It's my Walkman. My Mom gave it to me.”

"Oh.”

“It was a present for my birthday last year. That was before she got sick.” The statement causes Peter to stop in the hallway, hanging his head.

Kraglin stops. “Pete? Ya okay, kid?”

He raises his eyes to Kraglin’s, and they’re glistening. “I want to go home," he says softly, and starts to cry.

 _Poor kid,_  Kraglin thinks, staring down at him in sympathy.  _Taken away from everythin' he knows. Jus' like me and Vara._  After looking around to make sure no one sees, he bends down and draws the boy into his arms. "I know, kid. I know."

The boy circles his arms around his neck and sobs into his shoulder. "It's okay, Pete," Kraglin says with slight discomfort, "I'll look after ya. It's gonna be okay." Peter doesn’t seem like he wants to let go, so he takes his chances on being ridiculed by his crewmates and picks the boy up. As he carries him to the sleeping quarters he shares with Oblo, Tullk and a bunch of other Ravagers, Peter begins to quiet some.

It’s late, almost the beginning of Third Watch, and several Ravagers are already lying down. Tullk is still awake, reviewing some specs on a holopad, and glances up at him. "Wot the bloody hell do yeh have there?"

"Ssh," Kraglin says. "It's the kid from Terra, Peter Quill. Pete, this is my friend Tullk. Ya know, he's from Terra too."

Peter peeks out from Kraglin's shoulder. "You are?"

"Aye. Glasgow."

"Where's that?"

"Scotland. The bonniest piece of land in the whole galaxy. I think. Can't quite remember, was younger than yeh when I was took by the Kree. Where yeh from, wee man?"

"Missouri," he sniffles.

Tullk nods and looks at Kraglin. "He stayin' with us, then?"

"Yeah, don’t know what yet, but the Cap'n's got plans fer him."

"Hey, shut up you guys," Oblo groans, rolling over on his stomach and smashing his thin pillow over his head.

Kraglin gives him a playful kick against his boot, and Oblo sticks out his leg in an effort to strike back, but misses.

Tullk gets to his feet and pulls a bedroll from the shelf and lays it between his roll and Kraglin's. "Here yeh go, Petey. Yeh ken sleep here."

Kraglin lowers Peter to his feet, then lays down on his own roll, propping himself on one elbow. He pats fluffs Peter’s under-stuffed pillow as best he can, and pats it, effectively flattening it again. “Lie down and get some sleep, kid. Probably be a busy day fer ya tomorrow.”

Peter puts his Walkman tenderly in his backpack, then lies down and hugs the backpack against himself, curling up in the smallest ball he can, squeezing his eyes shut.

Over his head, Tullk and Kraglin exchange sympathetic glances.

* * *

Kraglin wakes to a small hand gripping his arm. "K-Kraglin?"

"Wh-what? Who’s that? Oh. Pete? Whatsa matter?"

"I'm c-c-cold."

"Shit," he groans. Rummaging at his feet in the dark, he pulls his jacket up. "Here, kid," he whispers, throwing the jacket over him. "I'll find ya a blanket tomorrow." He lies his head down again and falls back asleep.

What seems like seconds later, he's being woken again. "What," he growls.

"I c-can't get - get warm."

"Dammit kid, I hafta wake up a in a couple hours, I don't have time to find ya a stupid blanket." He sighs as he hears Peter's teeth chattering. "Oh, for flark's sake. C'mere," he says, pulling the boy down and drawing his back against his belly. He wraps an arm around the boy, and feels him snuggle back under his neck. "Ya tell anyone 'bout this, and I'll beat ya up."

"Th-thanks, K-Kraglin."

"Jus' shut up and go t'sleep."


	16. New Kid on the Block

"Aww, ain't that sweet," comes a mocking voice, and Kraglin's eyes pop open. He instantly shoves Peter away, and taking his pillow, socks it into Tullk's grinning face. The Ravager’s laughter is muffled through the fabric.

"Shut up. The kid was cold and I didn't wanna bother findin' a blanket," Kraglin huffs. 

Peter has sat up by now, rubbing his eyes, and his shoulders droop. "You're real," he murmurs dejectedly, looking between the two of them.

"Hey now," Tullk says indignantly, tossing the pillow back to Kraglin. "We ain't that bad, are we?"

"You kidnapped me," Peter says flatly.

"Picked ya up," Kraglin corrects. "And c'mon. Yer on a pirate ship with real pirates. S' cool, right?"

"I guess," he says with a shrug.

"Come on," Kraglin says, getting to his feet. "Ya hungry?"

Peter shakes his head.

"Well, yer comin' with me to the mess anyway. Ya can leave the backpack here."

Peter hugs it tighter against his chest. "No way! You guys are gonna steal my stuff!"

"Why would we do that?"

"'Cause you're pirates?" the boy says, raising an eyebrow.

Tullk throws his head back and laughs. "Kid's gotta point."

"Okay, okay. Fine. Here." Bending down, Kraglin flips his sleeping mat over, revealing a locked hatch with a line of numbered dials on its lid. Everyone has one. Shielding it from view, he dials the combination and open it up. Inside are another pair of boots, some tools, a lockbox, and miscellaneous other items. "Would ya feel better if I locked it up with my stuff?"

Peter looks from his backpack to the hatch.

"C'mon, Pete. I don't got all day. I have work to do." 

The boy opens the backpack and takes his Walkman out, then zips it up again and hesitantly hands it to Kraglin. "It'll be safe here," the mechanic promises, and tucks it safely with his belongings, then closes the hatch and spins the dials so it's locked again. He covers it with his mat, and gets to his feet again. "This way."

As they make their way towards the center of the ship where the Mess Hall is, the halls become continuously more crowded with Ravagers. Kraglin keeps a close eye on Peter in case he needs to pull him out of the way of Taserface, Zeede or Horuz, who is notably grouchy in the morning. As they enter a thick throng of Ravagers near the showers, he feels Peter slip a hand into his and hold on tightly.

Kraglin's heart skips a beat for a second, remembering when Vara used to do the same, and he glances down at the boy. His eyes are wide and frightened, looking in all directions. "C'mere, Pete. It's pretty crowded through here." He bends down and lifts Peter onto his back; the boy curls his arms around Kraglin’s neck. Kraglin hooks his arms under the boy's legs and hefts him up higher as he pushes his way through the crowd. “Ya secure back there?”

“Yeah,” he replies softly in his ear. “Thanks.”

Kraglin just shrugs. "Jus’ don't want ya gettin' lost or nothin'."

At last they reach the mess hall, and Kraglin puts Peter down just before they enter. Peter latches onto one of Kraglin’s belt loops as he gets a tray and stands in line. 

"What is that?" Peter says, gaping at a green noodle-like mess that Kraglin ladles onto his tray.

"Worms," he says with a grin, and laughs at the boy's horrified face. He nudges him with an elbow. "Just kiddin'. It's some kinda grain or somethin'. Want some?" Peter shakes his head so vigorously that his hair whips from side to side. "Ya should eat  _somethin'_. Ah, here. Ya might like this." He grabs a couple of small bowls of a sweet, bread-pudding like concoction and places them on his tray. 

"Hey!" Erson, the cook, barks. "One per!"

"Mornin’ Erson,” Kraglin says, rolling his eyes. “Relax. One's for the kid," He jerks his head down. Erson leans over the counter, his tentacle-like fingers curling over the edge, and narrows his eyes. Peter shrinks against Kraglin's side. "Cap'n brought him on board," the mechanic explains. "Come on, Pete." He feels Peter's hand grasp his belt tighter as they move through the tables to sit next to Tullk, Oblo and Horuz. Horuz glares over the top of his steaming mug at them, but says nothing.

"Here, try this. It's kinda sweet." Kraglin says, placing one of the bowls and a spoon before Peter.

Peter looks at it dubiously for several minutes while Kraglin eats his grains and other food, then picks up the spoon and takes a minuscule amount onto it. He touches his tongue to it, preemptively scrunching up his face for a second, but then puts it in his mouth and swallows. He pauses, then goes back for more.

"What we got here?"

Peter drops the spoon into the bowl with a clatter and looks up. Kraglin follows his gaze. It's Brahl, one of their gunners. "Hey Brahl," Kraglin says firmly. "This is Peter."

Brahl leans towards Peter and takes a long draw of breath through his nostrils. “Don’t know, Obfonteri. Smells like a snack to me,” he says, teeth flashing.

Peter crushes himself against Kraglin, holding his Walkman protectively against his chest.

"Whatcha got there, boy?" He reaches for the device and before Kraglin can stop him, tears it out of the boy's hands. “Mine now!"

Peter's face turns red, and Kraglin is afraid he's going to start crying, but instead he stands up on the bench and screams, "Give that BACK!" and kicks Brahl hard in the shin. Brahl yelps, and seizes a handful of Peter's shirt, swinging the boy off the bench onto the floor, where he tumbles a few feet away.

"Pete!” Kraglin cries, leaping from his seat. “Brahl, ya jackass, leave him -" he stops mid-sentence, freezing in place. 

Brahl has frozen too.

The Yaka arrow is spinning in front of his eyes, leaving red vapor trails in the air as it zips from side to side.

"Last I checked, ya had a job to do, and it wasn't pickin' on a small boy," a voice snarls. Brahl whirls and backs up several steps, still followed by the arrow.

Yondu stands there, currents running steadily along his implant. He holds out a hand. "Give it here." With a soft whistle, the arrow zips behind Brahl and pokes the back of his neck so he hurriedly approaches the Captain. He places the Walkman in Yondu's palm. The Captain draws it back safely against his side, then his other hand jabs out to snatch Brahl's collar. "Ya don't touch this boy again, ya hear me? Now get back to work."

"Yessir!" The moment Brahl is released, he darts out of the mess at top speed. Yondu looks around the room, arrow spinning above his shoulder. "That goes for all y’all!" he shouts. "If yer not eatin', then y'all should be workin'!"

Instantly, everyone goes back about their business. Yondu turns to Peter, who is now on his feet, with Kraglin standing behind him, hands on his shoulders. He releases the boy as Yondu strolls over and bends down slightly. The Captain takes Peter’s chin gently in his hand, and turns his face to the right and left, studying him. "Ya hurt, boy?"

"N-no," he says, eyes following the arrow.

"Good. Here." Yondu hands back the Walkman, and Peter hugs it to his chest, but keeps his gaze on the arrow.

"What is that thing?" he whispers in awe.

"My Yaka arrow," Yondu says with a slight smile. He gives a sharp whistle through his teeth, and the arrow flies about the room at top speed, zipping in and out and around the crew in line, sending trays and food flying as they jump aside in alarm. Half of the crew still eating ducks below their tables, peering over the edge to watch the weapon. The rest follow it with watchful eyes.

The arrow spears a muffin at the end of the food line, and glides it over to the Captain, who takes it off, brushing crumbs away from the tip, then whistles again so it holsters itself.

"Cool," Peter breathes, reaching out to touch it.

"Ah ah," Yondu says through a mouthful of muffin, hiding it behind his duster. "Not fer yer lil' fingers." Yondu seats himself at their table, and gestures to Peter's bowl. "Finish eatin', boy. Got lots to do today."

Peter and Kraglin resume their seats, and Peter reluctantly begins to eat again, his eyes on the Captain the whole time. "Like what?"

"Gotta get ya some Ravager leathers fer a start, go over the Code, show ya the ship." His head snaps up to Kraglin. "Ya found him a place to sleep?"

"Yeah, with me an' Tullk," Kraglin says.

Yondu nods and turns to Peter again. "Ya sleep good, boy?"

Peter shakes his head.

"No? Why not?"

 _He was taken from home,_  Kraglin thinks.  _Can't expect him to sleep good, at least not on his first night here._

"The floor was hard, and it was cold," Peter says. "And Kraglin snores."

"Wh-what! I do not!" Kraglin stammers angrily. Yondu roars with laughter.

Peter turns his face up to him. "Yeah, you do."

"Yeh do," Tullk says.

"Yup," Oblo says, taking a sip of his drink.

Horuz nods from behind his mug.

"Thanks a lot," Kraglin mumbles, feeling the tips of his ears and cheeks turning hot.

"Oh my god, are you choking?" Peter gasps, grasping his arm. His eyes are wide with concern.

 _"What?"_ Kraglin asks.

"Your - your cheeks are blue! That means you're not getting air!" He looks worriedly from Kraglin to Yondu. "Do something!"

Kraglin slaps a hand over his eyes as everyone laughs. "Relax, kid! I'm fine. Wouldn't be able to talk if I was chokin'. I have blue blood. Now if I turn real pale, that's probably bad. See, how yer blushin' now? Like yer red, I'm blue."

Sure enough, Peter’s face is pink from the Ravagers’ laughter. He crosses his arms. "M' not blushing."

"A'ight boy, that's 'nuff chitchat," Yondu says with a chuckle, getting to his feet and pulling on the kid's arm, "Come with me. Let's get ya some leathers and talk about yer role on the ship."

As Peter is led away, he looks back over his shoulder at Kraglin. The mechanic smiles at him reassuringly. "I'll see ya later, Pete. Be good fer the Cap'n."

* * *

Kraglin is working inside the sub-level hatches on the undersides of several M-ships when he hears some of his crew mates talking above him.

It's that pig-faced Ravager, Scromegog. "Ya see that little morsel walkin' 'round with the Cap'n today?” he says.

"Yeah," hisses a voice belonging to a Baluurian named Galagran. "Didn't think the Cap'n leaned that way. Not that I got any complaints."

"Yeah," Scromegog's brother, Veemong, chuckles. "Maybe he'll share. Wouldn’t mind nibblin’ on that."

Anger boils hot in Kraglin’s belly, the screwdriver shaking in his fist. If he wasn't trapped by the M-ship above him, he’d gut them all this instant.  _Talkin’ that way ‘bout a kid!_ His teeth grind down hard.

"Where does he sleep?" Galagran asks.

"Block D on level 15, I think. He was hanging around with Kraglin in the mess."

"Hey!" Zeede's voice rings out. "Get back to work, you three!"

"Slave driver," one of them says, and their voices are gone.

Kraglin finishes his jobs at top speed, but it's still late by the time he's all done. He grabs some blankets from storage before he heads to Block D, and to his relief, Peter is sitting with Tullk when he reaches their sleeping place, looking at something on the Ravager’s holopad. Peter is wearing new leather pants - he'll have to grow into them, and a matching jacket that actually fits pretty well. A pair of boots is set at the end of his mat. 

"Hi Kraglin," he says, rubbing an eye. He looks worn out.

"Hey kid,” he greets him, trying to put the troubling thoughts out of his mind as he tousles the boy’s hair. “Ya doin' okay?"

He nods. "Yondu showed me around the ship s'more," he says with a big yawn, "Says I might get to go on special missions sometimes. He said I could help you with the ships tomorrow. Is that true?"

"If Cap'n says it is," Kraglin says, lying down. "If'n that's the case, ya better get some shuteye. I got a full schedule tomorrow. Oh, here. Gotcha some blankets." Kraglin shakes one of the less scratchy ones out and lays it over the top of the boy as he lies down. 

"Thanks, Kraglin," Peter says with another yawn, pulling the blanket around his neck. "Too bad it can't block out your snoring," he says cheekily, opening one eye.

"Har har," Kraglin says rolling his eyes. 

Peter smiles - actually smiles - then snuggles down onto the mat, and within moments, is fast asleep.

* * *

Kraglin wakes, but doesn't open his eyes. He has the distinct feeling that someone is standing over him. He keeps his breathing steady, doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes. There's a slight movement of someone brushing against his mat, and the unmistakable sound of breathing, close to his head.

Cautiously, he opens his eyes. It's Scromegog, and he's reaching for Peter's face. There’s some kind of rag in his hand. Faster than thought, Kraglin whips out the knife he keeps under his mat and presses the blade against the Ravager's throat. There's the sharp inhale of breath as Scromegog's eyes flick to his. 

Kraglin rises into a sitting position, pushing the knife further against Scromegrog's fleshy neck as he does, forcing him to move backwards, away from the child. Kraglin moves fluidly, drawing his legs up, and slides so he's crouching in front of Peter. Scromegog finally backs up enough to escape the knife point, but Kraglin keeps it raised, keeping his eyes locked on the Ravager.

In the doorway, Galagran and Veemong draw back, watching the scene unfold.

Kraglin gets to his feet and quietly follows Scromegog to the doorway and stops there. "Don't ya ever let me catch any of ya near him again," Kraglin hisses with the most venom in his voice that he can muster. "If I do, I will cut yer fuckin’ balls off." They back up around the corner and disappear from sight.

Kraglin doesn't sleep the rest of the night, keeping his knife at the ready as he watches over Peter.

* * *

Kraglin has Peter cleaning inside the larger ships' landing gear when Yondu comes by. "Quill!" Yondu barks.

Kraglin lifts Peter down, and hides a yawn behind his arm. Yondu raises an eyebrow at him, then hands Peter a flame patch. "Forgot to give this to ya."

"What is it?"

"It's a Ravager flame." He moves his lapel aside to reveal his own flame, and Peter looks down at the patch in his hands, then back up. "Mine looks different."

"Yer a different generation. Kraglin's looks different than yers." Yondu pulls Kraglin's arm down to show off his patch, revealing another yawn that the mechanic was trying to hide. "Hell, boy. What's wrong with you today? The kid keepin' ya awake?"

"No sir," he says, biting back another yawn. "Didn't sleep."

"Dreams again?" Yondu asks, in a quieter voice, drawing a step closer.

Kraglin shakes his head.

"Then what?"

Kraglin glances at Peter, then says, "Uh. Here Pete, see this? Why don'tcha unscrew that fer me, that'd be a big help."

Peter smiles a little, tucking the patch in his pocket, and takes the large screwdriver from him. While he's busy, Kraglin takes the Captain aside. "Cap'n, have ya ever looked into Scromegog, Veemong and Galagran's records?"

"Don't thinks so. Why?"

"Jus'...I heard 'em talkin yesterday. 'Bout Peter. And then last night, Scromegog came to try and take Pete outta the room. I stopped him."

Yondu's face darkens, and he scowls. "Take him outta the room? Why?"

"I think they... _like_ _kids,"_ Kraglin says in a whisper, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "I mean-"

"Stop, stop." Yondu hisses, glancing over Kraglin's shoulder to make sure Peter is occupied. "I'll look into it."

"Thanks, Cap'n."

"Jus' keep the boy close. Don't let anyone touch him, that's an order."

"Don’t worry, sir. I’ll kill anybody that tries."

Later, nearing the end of Second Watch, Yondu approaches Kraglin in the mess. Peter is asleep at the table, head resting on his folded arms, one hand limply clutching a spoon. His forehead is smudged with engine oil, fingernails grubby.

Yondu’s eyes lock on the small form, and a ripple of anger goes through his face. “Ya were right," he growls low. "I checked their records, and each one was arrested at some point or another fer messin' with kids." A violent flash goes through his implant.

"What're ya gonna do?" Kraglin asks quietly.

"It's already done," he says with a glance at his arrow.

Kraglin nods solemnly. "Good, bastards deserved it."

"Damn right. I got patience fer a lot a' things. I'll grant a lot a’ second chances. But that? That kinda sick behavior deserves no mercy." Yondu stares down quietly at the sleeping boy for a few moments, before reaching down and lifting him carefully into his arms. Peter doesn’t wake fully, but limply circles his arms around Yondu's neck, resting his cheek against his shoulder with a sigh. Yondu pats the child's back softly, making sure the ever-present Walkman is secure in his grasp before following Kraglin to Block D.


	17. Exiled

Kraglin is woken by an apprehensive feeling.

It’s the feeling he remembers having the day his father sold him. It’s the same feeling he would get when the Skrulls had a day of fighting planned for him. It’s how he felt when Yondu returned after dropping Evir off to Ego.

Something is wrong.

Instantly, he rolls over to check on Peter, but the boy is lying there, like he’s done for the last three months, sleeping peacefully. He's relieved to see this, and tucks the blankets a little more snugly around the child, but the anxiety still lingers, hanging like an unwanted shroud over his shoulders. Tullk is still asleep on Peter’s other side; he'll keep an eye on the boy if Kraglin is gone, so he gets to his feet.

It’s the very beginning of First Watch, and the ship is beginning to stir, but most of the Ravagers are still sleeping. His steps lead him to the control room, and hears voices within - Horuz and Zeede.

"What do ya think they want?" Horuz is saying. 

"Couldn't tell ya," Zeede says, but there something in the way he says the words that makes Kraglin think the First Mate  _could_. 

"Gods,” comes Horuz’s voice again. “I never seen so many in one place."

Kraglin peeks his head inside, and seeks out the radar. There are thirty – no, fifty - no, _over_ _seventy_ dots surrounding the  _Eclector_. That's a lot of ships. _Well, they’re obviously not attackin’, else everybody’d be goin’ crazy right now. And we’re in neutral space, so there shouldn’t be reason fer attackin’ in the first place_. He narrows his eyes at the screen in wonder, then hurriedly retreats as Horuz turns and heads his way. Kraglin briefly considers hiding, but knows he's going to bump into Horuz sooner or later, so he pretends like he was heading for the mess, which, thankfully, lies in the same direction as the control room.

"Kraglin," Horuz says in surprise, turning the corner. "Whatcha doin' up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep, gonna get some breakfast," he shrugs. "You?"

He looks around him furtively. "Don't say nothin’ to anyone,” he says in a hushed voice, “But all one hundred Ravager clans are here. They hailed the Cap'n and took him aboard the  _Starhawk_."

 _Ravager ships!_ "What? Why?"

"Don't know. Never heard of anythin' like this.” Horuz rubs his beard, "Well, I’m gonna go check the engines, in case we need to hightail it outta here."

"Need help?"

"Nah. Ya go get some grub."

Gnawing his lip, Kraglin goes to the mess and grabs a protein bar. He doesn't have the stomach for much else.  _All one hundred Ravager ships in one place. And the Cap'n taken without any kinda warnin'._  He shakes his head, and takes his bar to the docking bay to eat it. He does this often, liking to see the ship come awake with activity. As he walks, he looks out the viewing ports, and sees large Ravager ships of all makes and sizes, painted with all colors, hanging out in space around them.  _Maybe Cap'n Ogord has a special mission fer us or somethin’. But why would all One Hundred Clans be here?_  That's the part that bothers him. It would take a massive amount of coordination to get all the captains in one place, so whatever it is must be awfully important.

Zeede's voice still rings in his ears. _'Couldn't tell ya,' he says. Well I say tha's bullshit,_  Kraglin thinks, taking an angry bite of the bar.  _Bet a month’s worth a units ya had_ somethin' _to do with this, Zeede._  He sits on the edge of a catwalk, legs dangling over the edge, and chews in silence. It's not satisfying, especially with the growing unease in his belly. 

He's just taken his last bite when the lights along the ceiling begin to flash, indicating an incoming ship. He looks to the opposite end of the docking bay, and after a moment, the circular, iris-like door there whirs open. A small, four-person ship comes flying in. It docks on the fifth level down, just below him. He draws his legs up from over the edge, and hides behind a crate. He's still able to see the platform and the ship, but he’s hidden from any wandering eyes. The ship isn't one of theirs - it bears the dark blue markings of the  _Starhawk_. 

The ship’s gangplank opens downwards, and Yondu is pushed, stumbling out of the vessel. Stakar follows, throwing the Yaka arrow down at Yondu’s feet. Kraglin can't make out the details of their faces from this distance, but he can tell by his body language that Captain Ogord is furious.

Kraglin swallows, the protein going down hard and dry in his throat.

Yondu yells something at Stakar, throwing up his arms, pointing at himself, then outwards, but the large area of the docking bay dissipates his voice before it can reach Kraglin – it’s just a sort of muffled echo from where he watches. Stakar doesn't respond, just turns away to board his ship. Yondu holds out a hand, and says something - maybe  _wait_ - and runs after him, grabbing his arm.

As soon as Yondu touches him, Stakar whirls - and slams a fist into Yondu's jaw so hard that the Captain reels and falls to the ground. Kraglin gasps, clutching the crate. 

A large figure appears in the door of the ship, shouting something and stretching a hand towards the two of them. He's a huge, brown-skinned man wearing yellow Ravager leathers - Kraglin's only heard of him, but assumes it must be Charlie-27. Stakar turns, snaps something, and Charlie's hand drops hesitantly. Stakar turns back to Yondu and yells something, making a slicing motion in the air with his hand.

Yondu gets unsteadily to his feet, wiping at his face with a hand. He screams, and Kraglin can just make out the words,  _"Fine! To hell with y’all! I don't need you!"_

Kraglin's eyes widen.  _What in the galaxy could'a happened?_  he wonders, heart beating fast.  _They're - they're like family to the Captain!_ _What could'a caused_ - His heart rate continues to rise.  _Oh gods. The kids! Someone told Cap’n Ogord about the kids! What else could it have been?_  He stares down at the Captain, fingers still clenched on the edges of the crate. It’s only his grip that keeps him from rising. He wants to yell after Stakar, tell him that it’s not what he thinks, Yondu was just delivering the kids back home to their father. But from the looks of things, speaking up will not help his Captain now.

 Yondu’s back is turned as Stakar boards his ship and pulls away. Just as the ship is leaving through the iris, he turns, and takes a few steps in that direction. Then the ship is gone, and the door closes.

Kraglin doesn't move, hardly dares to breathe as Yondu stands there, staring after Stakar's ship for what seems like an eternity. Then his entire posture seems to collapse in on itself, as if weighed down. His head hangs, and he slowly trudges over to a stack of metal cases. He collapses onto one of them and buries his face in deep his hands.

Throat tight, Kraglin silently withdraws from the docking bay and returns to his sleeping quarters, where the others are just waking up.

He shares nothing of what he has seen.

* * *

Later, it is made clear to all that Yondu is extremely short-tempered and in no mood for any kind of bullshit. He's pierced one crewman’s hand already with the arrow, just for mistyping a coordinate, and warnings of his foul temper spread throughout the ship like a plague. The vessel is quiet all that day, everyone trying their best to stay out of the Captain's way unless he calls them specifically. Even Zeede, who looked rather smug when Yondu first called Kraglin into the control room to fix a lever he'd torn off its hinges, has fear in his eyes as the Captain rages about the room, his fin alight and the arrow quivering in its holster.

This behavior continues until suddenly, around the beginning of Second Watch, Yondu disappears. He's gone for hours and hours, and no one has any idea where he's gone. Although none of the crew is particularly keen on finding the Captain in his current state, Tullk and Kraglin still voice their concerns to each other, and decide to search for him. Kraglin leaves Peter with Oblo in the engineering section with strict instructions not to get in trouble or go missing, and begins to search the entirety of the  _Eclector_. It's well past the beginning of Third Watch when Tullk's voice crackles softly through his wrist com. "Found him.”

"On my way."

Tullk is in one of the most remote points of the ship, used for storage of old uniforms, weapons and odds and ends they might have some use for, and candles and things rarely used except for special Ravager ceremonies. Kraglin nearly runs into his friend, who takes his arm and steers him to a back corner. They peer around one of the shelving units to see Yondu, slumped against a crate, three empty liquor bottles rolling around his feet, and a fourth mostly-empty one clutched in his hand.

“Go talk to him, wee man. I think he might listen to yeh," Tullk whispers, pulling Kraglin back out of view.

"He'd listen to you, too," Kraglin protests.

Tullk shakes his head. "Nah, lad, listen. Yeh have a way 'bout yeh. Yeh have a nice side fer a Ravager that not many of us have. Yeh might be the only one that can help pull 'im outta - outta whatever this is."

Kraglin runs his fingers through his mohawk. _I did see what no one else saw, maybe I can figure out what’s goin’ on_. "I'll try. Jus’ keep an eye on Pete while I'm down here, huh? Get him to bed soon, he’s gotta help me fix up that M-ship tomorrow.”

"I ken do that. Call me if yeh need somethin’." With a light clap on Kraglin' shoulder, Tullk is gone.

Kraglin inches around the shelving unit. Yondu has discarded the fourth empty bottle and is fishing another from a crate on a rear bottom shelf. He bites down and pulls the stopper out with his teeth.

"Cap'n?" he calls timidly.

"Who's there?" His speech is so slurred that it sounds more like  _whozerr_  and Kraglin cringes.

"Uh, it's Kraglin, sir."

"Huh?" Yondu squints at him. "Oh, s’you, Krags. Whatcha doin' down here?" 

"Lookin' fer ya," Kraglin says, coming forward a few steps. He spies the label on one of the bottles, and gapes - it's a red-banded Baluurian whiskey. A bottle or two show up once and awhile, but it's so strong that it's been banned for years, and one can only get it on the most secret black markets. And it looks like the Captain’s got a case full. He glances back up at the Yondu. He's going to have the mother of all hangovers in the morning, unless he dies of alcohol poisoning first. "Can I join ya, Cap?"

"Ruther not," he says, then shrugs. "But wha’ th' hell. Can't see me any worse’n this, I reckon."

"Can I have some?" Kraglin asks, indicating the bottle. He gingerly takes a seat on the floor next to the Captain.

Yondu stares at the liquor, blinks, holds it more tightly for a second as if not wanting to give it up, then shoves it into his hands. "Prolly had too much already anyhows. Help y’self."

Kraglin takes a sip and almost chokes - it tastes just like the fluid smells that they use to clean the  _Eclector's_  turbines. He wipes his mouth and places the bottle by his feet, just out of Yondu's immediate reach. Then he draws up his knees, to partially hide the bottle from view. The Captain's head lolls between his shoulders, eyeing the bottle. His fingers twitch slightly, but he stays where he is.

"What happened?" Kraglin asks before he can stop himself. Yondu’s head rolls to look at him, and in the purple-rimmed red eyes, cutting through the bleariness, Kraglin sees familiar emotions. Heartache. Pain. Loss. Anger. "What happened to ya, Cap'n?" he repeats, softly.

Yondu tears his eyes away and lets out a hoarse, rueful-sounding laugh. "Don't pretend t’me like ya care, boy. No one ain't ever cared fer me, ya know, so don' pretend like y’do."

Kraglin knows Yondu is drunk, but the words still twist his heart, and he says harshly, "I ain't pretendin'.”

Yondu flinches, turning his head sharply to look at him again, only to hold a hand to his head. "Shit, not so – not so loud, boy. Shit."

"I ain't pretendin', Cap'n," he repeats in a quieter voice. "I do care 'bout ya."

Yondu reaches down, between Kraglin's knees to retrieve the bottle, and pauses to look him in the eyes on the way back up. His eyes lock with his, and Kraglin nearly yelps as Yondu buries a fist in his jacket, yanking him so close that their noses nearly touch. "Don’tcha lie t'me. I ain't stupid."

"I know y'ain't stupid," Kraglin answers, steadily. "And I ain't lyin'. I'd never lie to ya. I care 'bout ya, Cap, cuz ya care 'bout me. Ya saved me. More than once."

Yondu keeps holding him, searching his eyes for deception, but finds none, and slowly releases him to resume his seat, taking the bottle with him. "Should'n waste yer time with sentiment. Sentiment don’t get ya nowhere, don’t get ya nothin’."

"Sir, what happened with you and Cap'n Ogord?"

Yondu stills, and his jaw hardens. His body tenses, and Kraglin leans away just as the Captain jumps unsteadily to his feet and hurls the bottle against the opposite wall, where it shatters into a million pieces, liquor staining the wall and glass flying in every direction. Kraglin leaps up and retreats against the opposite wall at his back, pushing himself between two stacks of crates as Yondu picks up an empty bottle at his feet and does the same, and a second, and a third time, throwing them and cussing up a storm until he's out of bottles. The Captain whirls then, implant aflame, eyes burning - and brimming with tears.

Kraglin lets out a soft gasp, and before he can stop himself, he's run out of his hiding place to stand face-to-face with the Captain, grasping Yondu's shaking arms and trying to hold them steady.

"He-" Yondu begins, but his voice is cut off by a sort of choking sound. The implant's light dies away, and a single tear spills down his cheek. Yondu clenches Kraglin's arms, so hard that the mechanic has to bite his lip against the pain. “He jus’ – he threw me away,” he says brokenly. “I ain’t a Ravager no more.”

 _What?_ Kraglin stares at him. The Captain sways, and Kraglin moves his hands further up his arms, in case he loses his balance. "Let's sit down, huh?" he says softly, nodding at the floor.

Yondu nods dumbly, his expression blank, and practically falls to the ground, sitting with his back up against a crate. "I'm exiled, Krags," he says hoarsely, after several minutes. "He threw me away. I ain't a Ravager no more. Jus'..." His hands are clenched, and he lets them fall open. "I jus'...jus' wanted 'em to understand, but he wouldn't – he wouldn’t lissen. I didn't know, I didn't know it was so bad. He always said – he said he’d always come back fer me, he said he’d never give m’up." Yondu sighs deeply and rests his head in his hands, covering his eyes. "M’jus’ a stupid, greedy sonuvabitch." Another sigh, this time frail and wheezing. "Gods, what do I do now." The words are so soft, so timid and broken that Kraglin wonders if he meant to say them aloud.

Kraglin swallows. _Exiled? Thrown out? Not a Ravager? Is this all true?_ Confused and worried as he finds himself, he forces himself to speak. “Exiled or not, yer still the Cap'n of this ship, sir. Yer  _my_  Cap'n, and I will follow ya still. Don't matter that y’ain’t an official Ravager any more. We can do this without them. Ya got crew loyal to ya, Cap'n. We won't let ya down."

Yondu lets out a quiet snort. "Evvybody lets me down sooner ‘r later, Krags."

"I won't," he promises, lightly laying a hand on the Captain's shoulder. 

Yondu stares up at him, eyes bleary and bloodshot. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again in a tight line, and just nods. After a few more moments, he says, “Hand me anuvver bottle, huh?"

Kraglin glances at the crate to his right. "All due respect, I think ya had enough, sir."

"Jus’ share one wi’ me, then. An’ I’ll be done, no more drinkin’ tonight.”

Kraglin does so, forcing down the burning concoction. He's woozy, light headed and sad by the time they’re done, and Yondu has passed out cold, snoring on the floor. Kraglin calls Tullk after misdialing Horuz, and they move the Captain to his quarters with Zeede’s grumbling help – the First Mate is the only one who has access to the Captain’s quarters besides the Captain himself.

The next morning, Kraglin has a terrible hangover. The only partial consolation to his pain is that the Captain drank more than he did, and will probably remember nothing of their conversation the night before.


	18. Smile Again

The following day, Yondu has Zeede gather the entire crew in the mess. The room is loud with hundreds of Ravagers, and fails to quiet even when Yondu clambers up onto one of the tables.

Kraglin sees he’s about to whistle, and takes the opportunity to shout, “Y’all listen up! Cap’n’s got somethin’ to say!” his voice rings clear and loud above the crowd, and the room quickly falls silent. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zeede glare at him, but Kraglin ignores it and fixes his eyes on the Captain instead, who nods at him in appreciation.

“Ya might’ve heard the rumors,” Yondu begins, “That we been exiled from the Ravagers.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve gathered y’all up to tell ya that the rumors…is true. We ain’t _officially_ part of the Ravagers no more. But that don’t change nothin’ – yer still my crew, and we’re still gonna continue on missions, stealin’ shit and havin’ a good time like we always have. Jus’ means that we don’t got other Clans to lean back on. That bein’ said, if ya feel inclined to leave m’employ, then yer free to do so on our next planetside touch down.” Yondu glances at Zeede, who has stepped apart from the rest of the crowd. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say, and I bet I speak for most of us, if not all of us, that we’re stayin’ where we are. You’re the Capt’n, and like you said, we’re your crew.”

Yondu’s mouth presses into a tight line, and his eyes look a little glassy. “Obliged, Zeede,” he says softly.

Tullk, with Peter on his shoulders, glances down at Kraglin with raised eyebrows, who shakes his head, frowning.

Zeede gives Yondu a nod, then turns back to the crowd. “Now git back to work, lads! ‘Else we’re gonna have us some problems!”

There’s a scurry of activity as everyone resumes their posts and jobs.

As the crowd disperses, Yondu vanishes among them.

* * *

Days and weeks pass, and every time Kraglin sees the Captain, he just seems like shell of his former self. He roams the _Eclector_ like a ghost, stepping in where necessary to run missions and sign off on orders. He doesn’t smile or crack jokes with the crew anymore, and Kraglin doesn’t hear that raucous laugh echoing through the halls like he used to.

Peter seems to notice this too. “What’s wrong with Yondu?” he asks one day, seated next to Kraglin in the co-pilot seat of the M-ship they’ve been working on. “Is it ‘cause he’s not a Ravager anymore?”

“He’s still a Ravager, Pete,” Kraglin says as he twists and snips wires on the dash. “Jus’ not officially. See, the Ogords were – well, it’s like he lost his family.”

“Doesn’t sound like a family to me. They sound like a bunch a’ jerks.”

Kraglin doesn’t disagree, but doesn’t say so, either. “Don’t let the Captain hear ya say that. Ya know what happened last time.” A relatively new Ravager named Vorker made an off-hand snide comment about Stakar Ogord, and Yondu had overheard – and threatened to take the man’s only good eye if he – or anyone else – said anything like that again.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But at least Yondu’s still got us. He knows that, right?”

Kraglin pauses, and nods before bending his head into the interior shaft to secure the wiring. “Yeah, he still has us.”

“Hey, I think I might know what can help him feel better,” he hears Peter exclaim after a few minutes.

“Oh?” he asks after securing one of the wires. “What’s that?” There’s no answer. “Pete?” He lifts his head out of the shaft, but Peter is gone. He sighs. “Shit.”

When Kraglin finds Peter, he’s in the Control Room. The only other person there is Yondu, and he has Peter set on his knee. Peter has his Walkman in his lap, and Yondu has the headphones over his ears. Peter is smiling, and Kraglin notices that the Captain doesn’t look quite as sad as he did earlier.

* * *

The first time in several months that Kraglin sees Yondu smile, it’s on Contraxia – and not for any reason he expects.

They’ve just touched down, and it’s Peter’s first off-ship excursion since picking him up. Yondu wasn’t going to allow it, but Kraglin spoke up on the boy’s behalf, saying it would wear the kid out and make him happy, so the Captain consented.

It takes Kraglin longer than he expects to find a heavier coat and gloves the boy’s size, and when they’re finally ready, they are last off the ship and the mechanic is more than ready for a strong drink. As they disembark, Peter gasps loudly and rounds on Kraglin. “You didn’t tell me there was _snow!”_ he shrieks.

“Well, why do ya think I found them gloves n’ stuff?”

“You just said it was _cold_ , you didn’t say there was snow!”

Kraglin has to laugh, because Peter is grinning so wide that it looks like his head is going to split in half. The boy giggles and flings himself on his back into the nearest clean pile of snow, and begins sweeping his arms and legs back and forth.

“What’re ya doin’?”

“Makin’ a snow angel. Duh,” Peter says, lifting his head up slightly to look at Kraglin.

“A what?”

Peter rolls his eyes and flings up a gloved hand towards Kraglin, who sighs and hauls him to his feet. The boy turns and points in the snow. “See? A snow angel.”

Kraglin looks down, and sees the imprint of something that _kinda_ looks like it has wings. He cocks his head at it dubiously, then looks back at Peter’s grinning face. “Snow angel.” He laughs, shakes his head, and beckons to the boy. “If you say so. C’mon, kid. I’ll see if I can’t find ya somethin’ hot without alcohol.”

“Hey, I’m almost nine! I’m old enough to drink!”

Kraglin snorts. “Sorry, Pete! No can do, Cap’n’s orders.” He’s halfway to the nearest bar when he realizes Peter is not behind him. He turns, heart beating a little faster. Contraxia isn’t exactly the safest place to go wandering on your own – especially if you’re a child. “Pete? Ow!” An explosion of something cold slams into his cheek, followed shortly by Peter’s laughter.

Kraglin scrapes the snow off his face, blinking the crystals out of his eyes. “What the-ah!” He ducks as a second snowball flies past him, just missing his head. He glares over at Peter, who’s crouched in the snow, gathering the powder between his gloved hands and forming it into a ball. Kraglin grins mischievously, silver teeth glinting. “Okay, fine. Ya wanna play? We’ll play.” Stooping over, he draws as much snow as he can into his hands, packing it into a large ball. He chucks it at Peter, and it hits him so hard in the shoulder than he loses his balance and falls over. But the boy laughs excitedly and gets right back up again, tossing another snowball at Kraglin, hitting him in the shin. Then he dives behind a mound of snow piled up at a corner of the street. Likewise, Kraglin takes cover behind a trashcan. The snowballs fly.

Passersby quickly learn to avoid the intersection, but the Ravagers don’t. “What the hell are yeh two doin’?” Tullk’s voice rings out suddenly, and Kraglin and Peter stop, snowballs in hand, look at each other, and grin.

The Ravager laughs loudly, holding up his arms to fend off the sudden volley, then grabs Half-Nut and ducks down behind another mound of snow, where the pair hurriedly begin forming missiles of their own.

“No fair! Two against one! Kraglin, be on my team!”

Laughter coming out in gasping, foggy puffs, Kraglin races over to Peter behind the snow mound, boots sliding on the ice. “Better watch yer ass, Tullk!” he yells.

“Yeah!” Peter echoes. “Better watch your ass!” He beams up at Kraglin with cherry cheeks, and the mechanic laughs in response, ruffling his hair.

“Ha! Over m’dead body, yeh bastards!” Tullk shouts back.

Pretty soon, there’s a three-way team snowball fight going – Tullk and Half-Nut vs Kraglin and Peter, vs Oblo and – astoundingly – Horuz (who, admittedly, is already drunk).

“Hey look,” Kraglin says, nudging Peter’s shoulder.

The boy peeks over the snow mound, and sees Zeede crossing the street. Peter smiles wide. “Yeah!” Rearing back their arms and taking careful aim, both of their snowballs fly straight and true –

Right into the shoulder and neck of Yondu.

All fire ceases immediately.

“Who threw that?” Zeede demands in a hiss, eyeing the Captain, who has a stunned look on his face.

Kraglin stands shakily, and Peter gulps, ducking behind him. “It- it was me, sir.”

Yondu’s eyes widen at his confession, and his mouth twitches slightly, before giving way to a loud, boisterous laugh. “Oh yeah? Ya challengin’ me?”

Kraglin just stands there, dumbfounded.

With another laugh, Yondu takes a few steps forward and scoops a handful of snow into his palm, cupping his hands to form it into a sphere. “Better run, boys!”

With a shriek of laughter, Peter turns tail and runs.

“H-hey! Come back here! We’re a team!” Kraglin yells, turning after him, and jumps as he feels a hard snowball hit him right between the shoulder blades. Behind him, he hears Yondu’s barking laugh.

The snowballs begin flying again, and Zeede lets out a string of yelps as he’s caught in the crossfire. “You idiots!” he yells – and gets hit in the face by one of the Captain’s snowballs. Yondu cackles.

Kraglin grins. It’s good to hear that again.

* * *

Peter sniffles a little as Kraglin places a mug of hot soup in front of him in the mess. The rest of the crew is still planetside, and Kraglin never got his drink, but he doesn’t mind so much. “There ya go, Pete. Ain’t no kicken n’ stars or whatever, but it’s good, and it’ll warm ya up.” They’ve changed out of their wet clothes; Peter is dressed in his clothes from Terra, which are starting to get raggedy and small; Kraglin’s in a t-shirt that’s obviously been mended at least five times and pants that are torn at both knees.

 _“Chicken_ n’ stars _,_ ” Peter corrects, his face still flushed pink from his hot shower. He shovels the soup into his mouth anyway. He looks up at Kraglin after a few spoonfuls. “Thanks, Kraglin.”

“Fer what?”

“Today. It was fun.”

Kraglin smiles down at him. “It was, wasn’t it. We make a pretty good team, kid.”

“Yeah.” Peter sniggers into his mug. “Zeede’s face when Yondu hit him with the snowball was awesome.”

“Sure was. Wish I had a recordin’ a’ that,” Kraglin chuckles.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” comes a hissing voice, and Kraglin stands swiftly, knocking over his soup.

Zeede moves towards them slowly but steadily, eyes narrowed, claws extending and retracting. The mess is silent but for the drip of the soup as it puddles on the floor.

Kraglin doesn’t take his eyes off the First Mate, but reaches behind him until he feels Peter’s shoulder, and grasps his shirt, pulling him behind him. “Get outta here, Pete. Go hide.”

“But-”

“I said- _no, stop!”_ Too late, Kraglin sees Zeede move, lunging for Peter, and receives an elbow to the jaw as the First Mate shoves him out of the way.

Zeede backs up a few paces with the boy in his arms. Peter kicks and struggles against Zeede’s grasp, trying to get his mouth in a position to bite him, but the First Mate slides a couple of claws under his chin, slightly scraping the tender skin there. “Watch it, scab,” Zeede snarls, “Or my claws might slip and slit that soft little throat.”

Images of Vara in the Skrull’s grasp flash through Kraglin’s brain, and his voice tears from his throat in a vicious snarl. “Get yer fuckin’ hands off him! Put him down!”

Zeede’s eyes grow wide, and he actually backs up a step at the ferocity in Kraglin’s voice. But the shocked look is gone as soon as it came, and Zeede gives him a mirthless, cruel smile. “You humiliated me in front of the crew today, Obfonteri. And in front of the Captain, and the Ogords once before. And maybe,” Zeede says, digging his claws in a little deeper to Peter’s neck, “Maybe I just _don’t like him_ , like I don’t like _you.”_

Peter whimpers, and anger licks up inside Kraglin’s chest like a flame. He hunches down slightly, hardening his hands into fists. “I said put him down, Zeede, or I’ll _make ya.”_

“Oh, that’s right, we never did finish our little fight in the hangar, did we, _slave?”_

“Quill?”

Yondu’s voice echoes in the hall outside, and Zeede’s grip loosens abruptly as his head whips towards the entrance.

Kraglin takes the chance, and yanks Peter out of the First Mate’s arms, holding him protectively against his chest.

Zeede takes a step towards them. “We’re not finished. Say one word, and I’ll -”

“Quill!”

 Zeede snarls and points a claw at them, then flees into the shadows at the other end of the mess.

 _“QUILL!_ Dammit boy, where ya at?”

“He’s here, Cap,” Kraglin calls a little shakily, putting Peter back into his seat and shoving a spoon into his hands.

“Ah,” Yondu says, walking in. “Quill. I been…” He spies the soup spilled on the floor, and raises an eyebrow at Kraglin. “I been thinkin’ that it’s time ya learned how to shoot a blaster. Next week maybe, after this upcomin’ mission’s done. Whatcha say?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“Huh,” Yondu says, leaning back and hooking his thumbs in his belt. “Thought ya’d be more excited ‘bout it.”

“I am,” Peter says earnestly. “Just tired, I guess.”

The Captain nods slowly. “Right. Well, ya better git on t’bed, then.”

“I’ll take him, sir,” Kraglin says, finishing wiping up the soup with a nearby towel. “Come on, Pete.” He takes the boy’s hand in his, and begins to walk past when Yondu grips his upper arm. The ruby eyes bore into his.

 “Everythin’ okay, Krags?”

 _‘No’_ stops on his tongue, and he nods, forcing a smile. “Yessir.”

Yondu keeps hold of him for a minute, studying his eyes, then releases him.

Once they’re out of Yondu’s earshot, Peter looks up at Kraglin. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he whispers.

Kraglin stops to swing Peter up into his arms. “I didn’t wanna take the chance of Zeede hurtin’ ya. But don’t worry, I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

* * *

During the night, Kraglin is startled awake by a whimper. He’d only been half-sleeping anyway, and this causes him to sit bolt upright, whirling over to check on Peter. The boy is there, twitching in his sleep and uttering small whimpers and whines.

Lying back down, Kraglin reaches over and lays a hand on the boy’s head, gently stroking his hair. After a few moments, Peter quiet, and his breathing resumes a normal, steady rhythm.

_It’s okay, Pete. I won’t let anybody hurt ya._

Kraglin lies awake, coming up with plans and then discarding them, one after the other, for hours. When he can’t keep his eyes open any longer, he falls into an uneasy sleep.


	19. Betrayal

"Kraglin!" Horuz's voice rings down the corridor.

The mechanic turns at the entrance of the mess, snagging Peter’s collar as he does so. "Yeah?"

"Did ya get that piece ya needed fer the Warbird?"

Kraglin slaps his forehead. "Aw shit, no, I forgot - it's in storage."

"Want me to get it?"

"Naw, I need a couple other things - I'll jus' do that now. Pete, ya go on and get somethin' to eat, then stick with Oblo or Tullk until I come find ya. I see ‘em over there."

"Can't I come with you?"

"No, ya need to eat somethin'. I'll getcha when I'm ready fer ya to help me. Now git."

Peter rolls his eyes, but he scampers away. Kraglin turns around and heads five decks down to one of the storage bays. He's digs around for a while until he finds what he needs, putting it all in crate on the shelf. He's double-checking that he has everything, when he hears a voice heading in his direction. 

It's Zeede.

Not wanting to get caught alone with the First Mate, Kraglin leaves his box on the shelf and quickly, silently makes his way up the ladder to the overhead storage, where he hides in the shadows there. A few seconds later, Zeede comes walking along. "Hold on," he says into a communicator in his hand. "I thought I heard something." He peers around, stopping at the aisle where Kraglin was standing just moments before. He looks from side to side, then raises his eyes to where Kraglin is hiding.

Kraglin holds his breath, not daring to move a hair.

Thankfully, Zeede's eyes don't linger where he is hiding. After looking around a bit more and making sure the other aisles are clear, the First Mate speaks again. "All clear....No. No, that is _not_ what we discussed. You get 40 percent of the profit and nothing more - and that's _only_ if you take Yondu out."

Kraglin's eyes widen.  _What?_

"Don't threaten me,  _officer_ ," Zeede continues in a hiss. "If this fails, I'm taking you and the rest of the Corps down with me. That's a promise." He silent for a moment, then "Two days. You'd better be there." There's a soft blip as Zeede ends the transmission, then he drops the communicator to the floor and crushes it beneath his foot. He kicks it, sending the pieces flying, looks around once more, and leaves.

Kraglin waits several minutes before climbing down from his hiding place, just in case Zeede decided to hang around. He quickly gathers up his crate and speeds to the hangar. "Horuz," he hisses, "I need ya to cover fer me. I'll make it up to ya, I promise."

"But-" Horuz begins, but nods, taking the crate. Kraglin has never asked him for a favor before, and has covered his shift more than once. "Fine."

"Thanks. Ya know where the Cap'n is?"

"Yeah, he flew the _Warbird_ outta here a half hour ago. Scouting a location for the mission."

"Shit," Kraglin mutters under his breath. "Do ya know how long he's gonna be?"

"Probably most of the day-cycle, you know that’s how scouting usually goes."

 _"Shit."_  Kraglin gnaws his lip. 

"Why? What's goin' on?"

"N-nothin'," he answers. "It's, uh – it’s somethin’ personal." As much as he wants to tell Horuz the truth, he has to go directly to the Captain with this. If he tells one of his crewmates, there's too much of a risk that someone will overhear, and if Zeede gets wind that Kraglin knows his plan, Kraglin is might as well be dead - and Peter will be in greater danger. He sighs, and takes the crate back out of Horuz's hands. "Nevermind, I'll take care a' this."

"Ya sure?"

Kraglin nods. He needs something to distract him, needs his mind occupied.

The day-cycle passes in agonizing slowness. Kraglin keeps Peter close by, and keeps him engaged fixing the M-ship that they've been working on together in spare time when they’ve completed their other tasks.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks.

"What? _Ow!"_ Kraglin yelps as he gets zapped by some wires he's connecting. Peter hurriedly flips off the power. Kraglin sticks his fingers in his mouth, regretting the action at the taste of oil and grime. "Shit."

"Geez, you're really distracted. Are you okay?" Peter repeats.

"Yeah," Kraglin sighs, "I'm fine. Let's take a lil' break."

Peter grins and goes to get the Kraglin's tool bag, which always has a couple snacks inside. He selects a couple of protein bars and brings one back to Kraglin, who's seated in the pilot's seat. "Thanks," the mechanic says absently. Peter is halfway done with his when he notices Kraglin hasn't even torn open the paper. He’s just sitting there, head in one hand, staring into nothing. Peter swallows the bite in his mouth, and slips out of the co-pilot seat to stand next to Kraglin. He looks up at the mechanic for a moment, then leans up and circles his arms around his neck.

Kraglin jumps a little at the action, then gives a short, embarrassed laugh, patting Peter's back. "What's this fer?"

"I dunno," Peter says, shrugging and releasing him. "You seem upset. I used to give Mom hugs when she was upset or having one of her bad days, and she said it made her feel better." Peter's eyes fall to his feet, and a pink color spreads over his cheeks.

Kraglin chuckles softly, and grabs Peter around the shoulders, rubbing his fist into his hair until Peter giggles and shoves him away. “Ya know, Pete, ya can be a lil' shit sometimes, but yer a real good kid."

* * *

 

By the time Kraglin goes to bed that evening, the Captain still has not returned from scouting the mission location. Kraglin lies awake most of the night, mind racing.  _What if Zeede knew I was listenin' the whole time, and the Nova Corps already got the Cap'n?_  The thought makes him sick to his stomach. _What if he's not coming back? What if something else happened to him, somethin’ on the planet? If the Cap'n doesn't come back, that means Zeede is acting Captain._  His eyes widen.  _That's it. That's his plan! Zeede's taking the Yondu out so he can have the_ Eclector _! I have to find the Captain first thing in the mornin'. He has to be okay. He has to._

Thankfully, Yondu is alive and well when Kraglin wakes from another fitful night of sleep. However, the mechanic can't seem to catch him alone, and when he finally gets his chance, Yondu sends him away to make sure the  _Warbird_ , _Mendax_  and Horuz's ship, the  _Islynn_  are double-checked and cleared for the mission the next morning. It takes Kraglin all day to clear the ships for the mission, and every bit of willpower not to sabotage Zeede's ship in the process. On the hair-slim chance that he's wrong, that Zeede's in the clear, he doesn't want to be held responsible should something go wrong with the First Mate's vessel, and doesn't want to endanger any other crew that might be aboard.

The next chance Kraglin gets to speak to Yondu is before he leaves on the mission the next morning. He wakes when he hears Horuz rising, and makes a beeline for the Captain's quarters. He knocks, presses the intercom button, but there's no answer within. He tries the mess next. Empty, except for a couple of the mission crew. With a growl of impatience and rising anxiety in his stomach, Kraglin dashes for the control room. Relief spreads over his shoulders as he hears the Captain's voice echoing down the stairs.

"Cap'n?" he calls urgently as he climbs the stairs into the room. "Cap'n-"

"What is it, Obfonteri?"

Kraglin retreats hastily back down the stairs as Zeede appears at the top. 

"Well? What is it?" The First Mate asks, narrowing his eyes. "You're up awfully early."

"I - I need to speak to the Cap'n."

 Yondu appears behind Zeede, peering down the stairs over the First Mate's shoulder. "What is it, boy? Make it quick, I gotta get goin’ here."

"I - " Zeede's eyes bore into him, claws tapping the stair rail. "N-nevermind," he says, swallowing hard. "It can wait."

Yondu cocks his head, glancing between him and Zeede. He opens his mouth to speak, but Zeede turns at that moment to say, "We'd better get a move on, Capt'n." 

Yondu nods. "I'll find ya when we get back, Krags.”

 _No you won't,_  he thinks in panic, and dashes back out into the hallway, digging his fingers into his hair.  _Gods, what do I do? What do I do? Think, Kraglin!_ If Yondu wasn't exiled, he'd call Stakar, or even Aleta for help, but there's no one to fall back on now.  _I've got to do something! It's up to me. I have to save the Cap'n._

After all the mission ships have left, Kraglin returns to Block D and shakes Peter’s shoulder until he wakes. "Peter, wake up. C'mere." He drags the boy out into the hall so he doesn't wake the others.

Peter rubs a fist in his eye sleepily. "Krags? What’re you doin’? It's still early."

"I know, I'm sorry. But listen, ya gotta listen to me fer a minute." The urgency in his voice causes Peter's eyes to focus, and he becomes very still and quiet. "I need you to stay close to Tullk today, okay? And - and if I don't come back -"

"Back from where? Where are you going?"

"I gotta help the Cap'n, I think he's in trouble." He kneels down and takes the boy by the shoulders. "Look, I gotta know you're safe while I'm gone, so stick with Tullk, even if he gives ya hard time. Don't let him out of yer sight. And Pete, if - if I don't come back fer some reason, if somethin’ happens-" his throat tightens unexpectedly, he was not planning on having this conversation. "Jus' - if I had a lil' brother, I’d want ya’d to be it. Okay? Yer a good kid." He pulls peter swiftly into his arms and gives him a squeeze.

Peter hugs him tightly. As Kraglin holds him out again, he can see in the boy’s wide, frightened eyes that he doesn’t understand. With a shaky smile and a final squeeze to Peter's shoulder, Kraglin leaves him and races to the hangar. He fires up the  _Cawl_.

As he releases the vessel from its clamps, he is hailed by the First Watch navigators in the control room. " _Cawl. Cawl_ , come in. You are not cleared for launch. Repeat, you are not-" 

Kraglin flips off the speaker, and his hands fly over the controls, hacking into the main control system and overriding the Navs' locks on the launch doors. He raises the ship and cruises it into the airlock, alarms blaring over his head. Alarms or not, the _Eclector_ is not to contact the Captain on a mission unless the ship itself is in mortal danger. That’s the only saving grace about this plan. Zeede won’t know he’s coming.

Once the airlock is closed behind him and the one ahead is open, there's no stopping him. Kraglin activates the cloaking device and signal jammers, then shifts the  _Cawl's_ thrusters to full blast. His ship streaks for the planet below.

It's an abandoned and devastated world, torn by centuries of war and natural disasters. The core of the planet is unstable, frequent earthquakes rippling along its surface every other month. The only buildings to have survived mostly intact were the reinforced stone temples built into the metal-cored hills on the forest side of the planet. It's one of these that Yondu is targeting. Kraglin bribed the coordinates out of one of the Navs yesterday, and touches the  _Cawl_  down in a clearing in a small forest outside the temple in question. As his cloaked ship descends, his radar blips in recognition of other Ravager ships close by. He checks his blaster for the fifth time, makes sure he has a knife in his boot and one on his wrist, plenty of ammo in his belt pouch, and disembarks from the ship.

Though it's early in the day-cycle back on the ship, it's nearing night on the planet, and the shadows are long and threatening in the darkening forest. Staying low to the ground and hiding among the trees, Kraglin tries to catch sight of the Captain or any of his mission crew. Every step causes his heart to claw further up into his throat _. What if I'm too late? What if the Corps already got the Cap'n?_  He swallows back the threat of tears, losing the Captain is a thought he can't bear.  _Focus, Kraglin. He ain't gonna die, because yer gonna save him. Yer not gonna let Zeede win._  He peers cautiously around a large tree. The edge of the forest opens up to a valley, strewn with moss-covered remains of buildings long demolished. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees the Captain and several Ravagers emerge from the interior of a dark cave-like structure on the right side of the valley, carrying sacks and crates full of goods.

Zeede is nowhere to be seen, probably waiting with the rest of the crew with the ships. Kraglin is trying to decide whether to hail the Captain or stay put when sudden bright lights flood the area. He squints upward, and sees there are several Nova Corps vessels that have just uncloaked above the temple, bright white spotlights scorching down from their undersides.

Yondu and the crew fling their arms over their eyes, dropping their spoils and going for their weapons.

_"Yondu Udonta, you and your crew are under arrest. Drop your weapons, by order of the Nova Corps."_

Yondu dashes out of the light and his whistle pierces the air. Kraglin sees the red streak, and a loud crackling  _pop_  - one of the lights goes out. Another  _pop_  and a second light goes out. The other lights are turned off, and the vessels cloak once again, vanishing from view. The arrow flies back to Yondu.

Taking a breath, Kraglin draws his blaster and flicks the safety off. Keeping hidden as much as he can, he runs along the tree line, trying to keep the Captain in his sights. He abruptly skids to a halt, dropping to his belly; there are camouflaged Nova Corps officers advancing down from the forest down into the valley. Kraglin hears blaster fire, and sees that Yondu and his crewmates are fighting Nova Corps that ambushed them from the other side. The Ravagers duck down, taking cover among the ruins.

 Kraglin makes his way around until he sees Yondu behind a toppled pillar. He's covered on two sides, and open on the third which is free of attackers. He rises briefly to check the status of his crew, and Kraglin watches as a Nova Corps officer deactivates his camouflage on Yondu's blind side.

Kraglin is too far to take the officer out, and too far to shout a warning. He tears towards Yondu, blood pumping loud in his ears. The officer raises his weapon.

 _"Cap'n!”_ he screams.


	20. The First Mate

Yondu hears Kraglin scream his name, and subsequently gets the wind knocked out of him as the teen barrels into his side, throwing him to the ground. There's a simultaneous, sizzling crack of blaster shot.

"Kraglin?!" he yells, rolling over. He watches as Kraglin raises his blaster and pops a corpsman in the head – one he didn’t see approaching. He breathes a short sigh of relief, then turns to the mechanic with a snarl. "Dammit, boy! What the _hell_ d’ya think yer doing down - " Yondu's voice catches in his throat as he sees a dark blue stain quickly spreading across the fabric of Kraglin's jacket. The mechanic breathes hard as he clutches his left side, struggling backwards on kicking legs. His hands are stained blue and shaking.

"Oh shit! Shit!" Yondu takes hold of his collar and one arm and drags him behind the pillar, out of the line of fire. _No no no._

The Captain presses down hard on the wound in Kraglin's side; he flinches violently, but his eyes rise to seek out his own. "Ya – ya okay, Cap?" he gasps through bloodstained lips.

Yondu just stares back. Kraglin shoved him out of the way. He took a shot for him. He saved his life. "Why would you do something so damn _stupid?"_ he hears himself ask. 

"Yer my – my Cap'n, sir," Kraglin says, voice hoarse now. "C-couldn't let-”

"Jus’ – jus’ shut up, Krags," Yondu stammers. He zips down Kraglin’s jacket, tearing off his neckerchief and pressing it to the wound. "Dammit, shut up." He turns burning eyes towards the valley-turned-battlefield. That shot was meant for him. This should be him on the ground. He sees a Nova Corps officer advancing on another one of his fallen crew.  _I was tryin’ to keep the death count to a minimum today, but ya bastards are gonna pay for hurtin' this boy!_  Throwing back his duster, he purses his lips, and the resulting whistle is absolutely deafening.

In a matter of minutes, the battlefield is empty but for his crew. The arrow flies back to his waiting hand.

After a few minutes, he hears Horuz and some of the other Ravagers shouting, and hears Zeede's voice call out above the groaning of the crew, "Cap'n! Cap'n! Where is he?"

"Here," Yondu says, rising. 

Zeede stops in his tracks. "C-Cap'n. You're - you're all right."

Yondu detects slight surprise in Zeede's voice, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. It’s not important. There's more pressing concerns. "Horuz!" he says, calling to the man at the forest’s edge. "Git down here, I need yer help."

"Yessir."

Yondu hefts the barely-conscious Kraglin into his arms and walks out from behind the pillar. 

Zeede backs up several steps. "What is Obfonteri doing here?"

Yondu disregards the comment and walks towards Horuz. "His ship must be ‘round here. Take him, get him back to the  _Eclector_ , fast. Boy took a shot fer me." 

Horuz takes Kraglin from the Captain, and with another crewman's help, carries him back to the  _Cawl_. Yondu watches it rise above the tree line and speed away until it’s gone from sight.

He, Zeede and other Ravagers that are not in bad shape get the wounded and fallen back to the ships and follow.

* * *

"I thought ya said we were all clear!" Yondu yells, pacing the control room as the _Eclector_ moves speedily away from the planet.

"We were!" Zeede shouts back.

"Then how did the damn Nova Corps find us? They knew exactly where and when to hit us!”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"And another thing!" Yondu roars. "What the _hell_ was Kraglin doing down there? Ya picked the mission team, why was he down there?”

"I was just as surprised as you, Cap'n," he replies in a snarl. "Got there at the same time as the Nova Corps."

Yondu freezes, and turns stiffly to the First Mate. "Jus’ what’re ya gettin’ at?”

"I'm just saying it's mighty coincidental."

_“And?”_

“And maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

Yondu narrows his eyes. “Watch it, Zeede. I’m the Cap’n here. I make it a point to know m’crew.”

Zeede takes a breath, and comes closer. “It’s hard to know who to trust, especially after something like this. I’m just trying to watch your back, Cap’tn. Obfonteri’s probably innocent, but you have to admit the timing was a little suspicious.”

Yondu turns away from the First Mate. “He saved my life. He couldn’t be behind the ambush.”

Zeede shrugs. “Maybe that was part of the plan. Maybe-”

 _“Enough!_ I don’t wanna hear it.” He lets out a deep growl in his throat, and glances at the ship’s docking log. According to that, every ship is accounted for. He’s going to keep it that way.

Crossing to the back of the room, he punches in a code to open a hatch there. Inside is a lever, which he pulls. Red lights illuminate the room, and on the hangar and docking bay security feeds, he sees second sets of doors closing. "This ship is on lockdown until I get to the bottom of this," Yondu snarls, locking the hatch again. He rushes down the stairwell and into the main hall, leaving Zeede behind. He heads for the med bay. On the way there, he presses a button on his wrist com. "Tullk."

_"Cap'n? Why're we on lockdown?"_

"There's somethin' funny goin' on,” Yondu replies quietly. “I know I can trust ya - I need ya to keep an eye on things, make sure no one tries somethin' like overridin' the system. Go to the security room, watch the feeds fer anythin’ suspicious. Lock the doors behind ya, don’t let anyone in besides Horuz, I’m gonna send him yer way.”

_"Yessir."_

"Is Quill with you?"

 _"Yessir,”_ comes his sigh, _“Been stickin' t'me side all day, like Kraglin told him to."_

"Kraglin?" Yondu asks, stopping in his tracks.

_"Yeah, Petey said somethin' 'bout ya bein' in trouble, and Kraglin goin’ to help?"_

Yondu narrows his eyes. "Okay. Keep him with ya, I'll keep in touch."

_"Aye, Cap'n."_

On the way to the med bay, Yondu takes a slight detour to his quarters to change the entrance security code to his door. Afterwards, he slips into the med bay, where the doctor and one of the junior medics are tending the wounded. He chews his lower lip. _Three dead, six wounded, including Kraglin._

His eyes seek out the mechanic’s cot. Horuz stands next to it, and looks up when the Captain approaches.

"Go find Tullk in the security room, stay with him. No questions," he adds as Horuz opens his mouth. "Go."

"Yessir."

Once Horuz is gone, Yondu draws the curtain around Kraglin’s cot. He stares down at him, mind whirling. _‘Got there at the same time as the Nova Corps….you have to admit the timing was a little suspicious. You don’t know him as well as you think you do.’_ He shakes his head free of Zeede’s comments. _There’s no way Kraglin would betray me. He took a shot fer me. He’s never done nothin’ to make believe he ain’t loyal._ His eyes rove over the mechanic’s sleeping form. His head is tilted to one side; dark circles rim his eyes and there are bits of dried blood in his hair. Row after row of bandages are wrapped tight around his bare chest, padded with gauze. His monitors indicate a slow but steady heartrate, and a blood pressure reading on the low side. _Shit,_ he thinks, leaning against the side of the cot and rubbing his eyes with one hand. _This could’a -_ should’a _been me._

“Cap’n?”

Yondu breathes in sharply, removing his hand to stare down into Kraglin’s eyes. “Yer supposed to be sleepin’,” he says.

Kraglin shifts, grimacing as he tires to sit up. “Cap’n, I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

“No, ya keep quiet now. Ya done enough today.”

Kraglin’s hand darts out and grips his wrist with more force than Yondu expects. “No, Cap’n, ya don’t understand. Ya gotta listen, it’s important. Please.” His eyes are wide, his forehead breaking into a sweat. Behind him, the monitors beep more urgently.

“Okay, okay,” Yondu says, glancing at them in concern. “Jus’ calm down.” He shifts his stance into a more relaxed one and gently pushes Kraglin back against the pillows. “What is it?”

Kraglin lowers his voice so Yondu has to lean in to hear him. “Zeede. He set up that ambush.”

Yondu’s eyes widen, then narrow. “That’s a mighty serious accusation, boy.”

“I ain’t lyin’ sir,” and desperation rings in the mechanic’s voice. “I heard Zeede talkin’ to the Corps myself, down in one a’ the storage bays two days ago. They had no other way of knowin ya were comin’. He was gonna split the spoils with ‘em, after they killed ya _._ ”

Yondu stares. There's no deception there, no lies, just concern, care, and fear. There’s no reason not to trust Kraglin, whereas Zeede? They've never seen eye to eye. For years he’s been forced to trust Zeede for lack of a better option of a First Mate. Kraglin, on the other hand, has never lied to him, and has no reason to make this up. There is nothing for him to gain.

“ _Please_ , Cap’n, ya gotta believe me.”

"Tullk said that Quill told him ya’d run off ‘cause I was in trouble,” Yondu says softly. “Ya left the _Eclector_ to save me, is that it?”

“Yes sir, couldn’t anything happen to ya, not if I could do somethin’ ‘bout it. Couldn’t let Zeede win, after everythin’ he’s done.”

“Everythin’ he’s done? What’s that mean? Is there more ya need to tell me, Kraglin?”

“He threatened me and Peter, after our last stop on Contraxia. M’ sorry, I shouldn’t told ya sooner, but he said he’d hurt Pete if I did.”

Yondu’s blood boils. It all makes sense. He should have known, should have seen the signs. Zeede’s prejudice against slaves, finding out Yondu had been one. Zeede’s surprise at him being alive, and trying to dodge questions, trying to pin the ambush on Kraglin. He remembers Zeede pledging loyalty to him when he’d been exiled. _That was probably an act, too. To get the crew on his side,_ he thinks. _Or - to keep crew here that’s loyal to him._ He raises his head in realization. _He was going to kill me, mutiny and take over the whole ship._ Yondu clenches his teeth so tightly they threaten to crack. “That fucking _sonuvabitch.”_

“M’sorry Cap’n, I tried to warn ya, but I –”

“But I wouldn’t listen,” Yondu interrupts. His hands clench the metal bed frame so hard that he bends it. “Dammit!” He takes a few deep breaths and lets his grip loosen as he looks Kraglin in the eyes. “Ya shouldn’a done that boy – pushed me outta the way. Ya could’a got killed. Promise me ya won’t do somethin’ like that again.”

Kraglin shakes his head, offers a weak smile. “Can’t promise ya that, Cap’n. When I signed on, I told ya I’d always have yer back. Weren’t jus’ words. Leastways not to me.”

Yondu presses his lips into a thin, tight line, and nods. “I gotta take care a’ this. I’ll be back. You – get some rest. I see you up and outta that bed, so help me, I’ll....” he points a lazy finger at Kraglin, and turns. He leaves the med bay hurriedly, whistling out the arrow as he stalks back towards the control room where he left Zeede. “Tullk,” he says into his wrist com, “Check the feeds, I need ya to find Zeede. I’m headin’ fer the control room now – that’s where he was last. If he ain’t there, I’m headin’ fer his quarters. Ya tell me the second ya see any sign of him.”

_“Aye sir.”_

Arrow flaming over his shoulder, Yondu crosses the broad catwalk that bridges the middle of the ship, far above the mess. His eyes dart to the catwalks crisscross above and below him. He has to be ready for anything. He charges towards the control room, but he finds the room empty.

His arrow flits agitatedly around him, zipping back and forth as Yondu makes his way to the First Mate’s quarters. He punches in the override code to Zeede's cabin and barges in – but the cabin is empty, Zeede is nowhere to be seen.

He searches everywhere. The hangar, the docking bay, the airlocks, the mess – they’re all clear. He doubles back to the control room and sits, running a hand over his face. _If my plan failed, what would I do? I’d shift the blame. Zeede’s already done that. My plan was to kill the Cap’n, and that failed. I can't kill the Cap’n now, it'd be too suspicious. Before I make my next move, I'd take care of any loose ends._  His heart seems to stop. His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. "Kraglin."

At the same instant, his wrist com chirps. _“Cap’n!”_ Tullk’s voice comes, urgent.

“Ya found him?” Yondu asks, hopeful.

_“I cannae say for sure, but security cams just started goin’ down ‘round the med bay!”_

Tullk barely finishes his sentence before Yondu vaults out of his chair.

* * *

Kraglin starts awake. The med bay is dark, only red lockdown lights illuminating the machinery and the other filled beds. He looks around. His other wounded crewmates are lying still and quiet. He squints at the Ravager next to him. Too quiet, too still. He painfully leans over to shake the crewmate next to him, but he doesn’t stir.

“Ya know, it’s too bad the doctor gave you the wrong medication,” Zeede’s voice hisses in the dark.

Kraglin bolts upright, holding his side, eyes wide. He scans the room, but he can’t see the First Mate.

“The meds made you crazy, and you killed your shipmates and the doctor, before I got the chance to stop you.”

Kraglin leaps off the cot, stripping his wires from the machine. He nearly doubles over as pain lances through his side. He breathes heavily, swallowing back the bile rising in the back of his throat. “So why didn’t ya jus’ kill me already?”

“Why?” comes the voice.

He looks around for anything to use as a weapon, and sees the glint of surgical tools on the opposite side of the room.

“That’s a good question. I do hate you.”

Kraglin whirls. It sounded like Zeede was right behind him.

“And you’ve caused me nothing but humiliation and trouble.” A dry chuckle. “But I couldn’t bring myself to do it while you were lying there. Do you know why?”

Kraglin is nearly panting, hands trembling, eyes darting in all directions, trying to find the First Mate.

“Because I wanted to see the look in your eyes when I _kill you!_ ”

Kraglin leaps backwards just in time to avoid the sweep of a knife. Zeede melts out of the darkness, fangs and claws red in the lockdown lights. Kraglin stumbles backwards, trying not to get tangled in his medical wires. The First Mate is between him and the surgical instruments. Kraglin’s mind is racing, blood pumping loud and fast in his ears, his side throbbing with pain. Nevertheless, he forces himself into a lower stance, balling his fists. “Ya tried to murder the Cap’n.”

Zeede lets out a mirthless, raspy laugh. “Yes, I did. And you keep getting in my way!” Faster than Kraglin can react, Zeede rips a bedsheet from one of the cots and flings it at him, binding him, blinding him, pulling him to the floor. He feels his head crack against the hard tile, and claws frantically at the sheet, trying to free himself.

He feels Zeede’s sharp nails rake his scalp, burying in his hair, forcing his head back.

Kraglin frees himself of the sheet and brings up his hands just in time to clutch around Zeede’s other wrist, trying to prevent the knife from penetrating his chest.

“You are more trouble than your skinny hide is worth, boy,” Zeede says through bared teeth. “You just _had_ to worm your way into the crew’s good graces, didn’t you? I thought I had you gone when I contacted the Skrulls, but I didn’t count on the Capt’n caring about you _so damn much._ ” He lowers his head closer and gives him a devilish grin. “I don’t know how you found out about my plan, but once you’re dead, it won’t matter. Yondu is weak. I knew he was going to be exiled the moment I shared Ego’s offer with him, all it took was one call to the Ogords. Now I have half the crew on my side because of his betrayal to the Code. Killing him won’t be a problem after you’re gone. And once he’s dead and the _Eclector_ is mine,” he says, voice lowered to a cruel hiss, “I’ll kill the kid too.”

Kraglin’s eyes widen and his heart feels like it’s going to burst in his chest. _No. Not Peter. I couldn’t save Vara. I ain’t losin’ Peter too. I ain’t gonna let that happen. No._ “NO!” he screams, and forces Zeede’s knife back so violently and quickly that he hears something snap. Zeede lets go, howling as he drops the knife, and Kraglin drives a fist hard into his side. “I ain’t lettin’ ya hurt Peter or the Cap’n! Yer gonna have to go through me first!”

In a few seconds, the tables have turned. Kraglin has Zeede pinned, and he’s throwing punch after punch into the First Mate’s face and sides. He vaguely feels Zeede rake his claws over his left eye, but he doesn’t feel the pain.

* * *

Yondu’s feet pound against the metal grating as he flies through the ship, breath burning in his lungs. He sends his arrow ahead of him, to get people out of his way as he tears through the halls. He finally reaches the med bay, and finds it locked from the inside. He lets out a snarl and punches in his override code, squeezing inside as soon as there’s an opening big enough, fully expecting to see Zeede standing over a dead Kraglin.

He freezes in his tracks, mouth agape as he watches Kraglin strangle the First Mate with his medical wires.

Both are bleeding, panting with exertion, but Zeede is worse off. He’s losing air fast, legs kicking out trying to find purchase on the floor slick with blood, his eyes bulging, claws raking futilely at Kraglin’s unyielding hands. The mechanic’s face is set in blank, grim expression that doesn’t change, as if he doesn’t feel the pain, as if he is blocking everything out.

Yondu takes a step towards them, and the movement attracts Kraglin’s attention. His eyes focus, his grip slackening ever so slightly.

Zeede reaches out a hand, straining for the Captain. “H-help,” he gasps, his voice so hoarse it’s barely audible.

“Keep him there, boy,” Yondu says to Kraglin, “But don’t kill him yet.” Zeede’s eyes widen as Yondu crouches down, meeting his eyes. “Ya tried to kill me,” he says, his voice deadly calm. “Ya sabotaged the mission. Ya betrayed us to the Nova Corps. Ya betrayed yer crew, ya betrayed yer Cap’n, ya threatened yer crewmates, and ya threatened a _child._ ” He catches Kraglin’s eyes and nods.

With a swift, strong jerk, Kraglin gathers the wires in one fist, and reaches for a discarded knife on the floor. It has a wide, inwardly curved blade - a kukri, one that Yondu recognizes as belonging to Zeede.

“Please,” Zeede gasps.

Yondu stands, shaking his head. “No. Ya broke the Code. No amount a’ beggin’ is gonna save ya now. Yer a coward and worse – a traitor, and _I won’t let a traitor live on my ship.”_ He looks at Kraglin. “Finish it.”

Without word or hesitation, Kraglin slips the knife between the First Mate’s ribs. Zeede’s mouth stretches in a silent scream, legs kicking violently. After a few moments, his eyes grow dull, his jaw slack, his arms limp.

Kraglin lets out a heaving breath and pushes Zeede off him unceremoniously, collapsing against a nearby chair.

Yondu kicks Zeede’s body out of the way and carefully slings Kraglin’s right arm over his shoulder. “Come on, boy, let’s get you back up here.” He slips his other arm under his legs, and lifts his body into his arms. He gets the mechanic into his cot, noticing how pale and sweaty he is, how hard and fast he’s breathing. “It’s okay, boy. Easy now, easy.” Yondu walks a few paces away to a cupboard, where he picks out a supply of gauze, bandages and antiseptic spray, then returns to Kraglin, sitting in a chair by his side. “Doc!” he yells loudly. “Where the hell are ya? I need ya in here!”

“Doc’s dead, Cap’n,” Kraglins says.

Yondu pauses with the antiseptic. “What?”

“Zeede killed him. And the rest of the wounded crew.”

Yondu leaps to his feet, staring about him. Sure enough, none of the Ravages are moving – and it doesn’t matter what kind of medication they were on; there’s no way they could have slept through all that commotion. “Gods above,” Yondu says, sinking back into his seat. “Gods, this is all my fault. I should’a seen the signs.” He swallows, pushing back a lump of angry tears in his throat, and turns to Kraglin, gently dabbing the blood from his face. “I’m – I’m sorry, boy. I should’a made time fer ya, should’a listened. Lives could’a been saved.”

“Cap’n, Zeede said he had half the crew loyal to him, they might have a plan to-”

“Okay, boy. Jus’ calm down. I’ll take care of it, right after I take care a’ you.”

* * *

After Kraglin has been patched up, Zeede disposed of and the dead Ravagers respectfully covered and cordoned off, Yondu goes to the security room.

He punches in his code, and the door opens to reveal Tullk, Horuz and Peter. Once the boy spots Yondu, he dashes towards him. "You're okay!" he says happily, and peeks around his duster. "Where's Kraglin?"

"Med bay. I need-"

"Med bay?" Peter cries. "Is he okay?"

Yondu looks down to see tears gathering in Peter's eyes. He kneels down and puts a hand on the boy's head. "He's gonna be fine, Quill. Now be quiet fer a second. Tullk, Horuz, I need yer help roundin' up some a' the crew. Anyone that you know you can trust, get 'em. If ya don't know fer sure, I want 'em put down in the brig."

Horuz’s brow furrows. "What happened?"

"I'll explain in full later. Jus' do that fer me. Anybody you're not sure you can trust, and especially anyone you know is loyal to Zeede. Put that lot in a separate cell."

"Yessir."

“Aye, Cap’n.”

"You come with me, Quill," Yondu says, taking the boy's hand. I got a special job fer ya."

* * *

Kraglin looks up as the med bay doors open again. Yondu walks in, carrying Peter in his arms. At the sight of Kraglin, Peter struggles out of Yondu's grasp and runs to the mechanic. "Kraglin! Are you okay? Yondu says you got hurt protecting him, he said you were really stupid." His voice drops to an awed whisper. "And he said you killed Zeede. Did you really?"

Kraglin nods tiredly.

"Quill, c’mere boy, this is for you."

Peter turns, to see Yondu holding out a blaster, holstered in a small belt.

"For me?"

"Yes."

Peter's eyes grow big and he reaches for it. Yondu holds it away, and instead buckles it around the boy's waist. "This ain't no toy, Quill,” he says, wagging a finger. “It's for an emergency  _only_. To save yer life, or Kraglin's. Do ya understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he whispers.

"Now ya stay here and protect Kraglin. I'm countin' on ya, boy."

Yondu leaves, locking the door behind him, and Peter pushes a chair next to Kraglin's bed. He sits there for a while, then paces back and forth with his palm resting on the blaster. He doesn't try to draw it though. Kraglin watches in tired amusement, until he begins to drift off to sleep.

He's woken a short time later by a movement at his side, and starts. Peter is crawling atop the bed at his right side. The boy looks at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I was trying not to wake you up.”

“It’s okay,” Kraglin says, lifting his arm to settle it around the Peter’s shoulders as he lays alongside him on the cot.

Peter stares up at him. “Kraglin? Why did you have to kill Zeede? Not that I’m sad about it or anything, he was a scary jerk. But…”

“He was the one who plotted to kill the Cap’n, and he was gonna mutiny, take over the ship. And…and he was gonna hurt ya. I couldn’t let him do that.”

Tears well in Peter’s eyes, and he throws an arm over Kraglin’s stomach, hugging him firmly.

“Ow ow ow, shit Pete! Not so tight!”

“Sorry! Sorry.” The boy sniffles, resting his head just below Kraglin’s shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Kraglin sighs. “Yeah, Pete. I’ll be fine. Jus’ need some rest.”

“Okay. Can I stay up here with you if I’m _real_ quiet?”

“Yeah, jus’ shut up and don’t wiggle around. I need to sleep.”

“Okay.”

* * *

After Yondu and the others have found and confined the mutinous crew members, the Captain returns to the med bay. Entering, he lets out a soft chuckle. Both Kraglin and Peter are asleep; the boy has his arm tucked securely over the mechanic’s chest, the blaster clutched in his fingers. Kraglin's arm lies protectively over Peter's shoulders, his cheek resting on the boy's head so that Peter’s hair moves when he breathes.

Yondu stands there, staring down at the two of them, for several minutes. His eyes come to rest on Kraglin, looking over the bandages that cover his forehead and most of his left eye – Zeede’s claws ran deep; there will be scars there for sure.

Kraglin’s words, both past and recent, come floating to the top of his mind. _Yer my Cap'n, sir...couldn't let 'em hurt ya.... I have yer back. Weren't jus' words.... I won't let ya down...I care about ya...._  Yondu draws in a deep breath, and silently pulls up a chair on the left side of the bed. He folds his arms, leans back, and thinks.

* * *

Kraglin's not sure how long he sleeps, but after a while, he's woken by the soft sound of his name being called. He feels Peter lying against him in the bed, and he tightens his hold on the boy slightly as his eyes open and look around. They come to rest on Yondu, who is sitting on his left, staring at him. "Cap'n," he greets him quietly.

"Didn't want to wake ya, Krags," Yondu says, in an equally soft voice. "But I got somethin’ I need to talk to ya ‘bout.”

Kraglin glances at Peter to make sure he doesn't wake him, and shift his head slightly on the pillow to better look at his Captain. "Sir?"

"Ya have been a good crewmate, Kraglin. Ya might be young, but in my career as Cap'n, I ain't met anyone as honest or hard workin' as you. Yer strong, quick. Ya always do yer work without complaint, always get it done quick and efficient. Ya proved ya can work independently, or lead a team. Whatever I ask ya to do, I know I can count on ya to git it done."

"But...?"

Yondu shakes his head and scoots his chair closer. "No. No  _buts_.  _And_ ," he says, taking a deep breath. "I need a new First Mate." He pauses, letting the statement sink in.

Kraglin's eyes narrow in confusion for a moment, then his eyes widen, and keep growing larger until the bandages above his left eye crinkle. "Cap'n?" he whispers.

"Ya saved my life, Krags," Yondu says. "Ya’ve _never_ given me a reason to doubt ya or yer loyalty. I want ya to be my First Mate. What do ya say?"

Kraglin averts his gaze for a moment, staring down at Peter's head. His lips press tight together, and when he turns back to Yondu, there's the glisten of tears in his eyes. He shifts his right hand, clenching it into a fist, and pounds it against his chest, twice over his heart. "It'd be my honor, Cap'n."


	21. The Milano

Being First Mate is not easy and being so young doesn't help matters. Apart from Horuz, Tullk and Oblo, Kraglin gets glares from the majority of the crew, gets jostled in the halls, and hears mutters behind his back. The Captain doesn't say a word about it to Kraglin and doesn't correct the crew. It hurts a little that Yondu doesn't step in, doesn’t tell the crew to respect their First Mate, but Kraglin shrugs it off, and he ignores the crew. For a month.

The final altercation that pushes him over the edge occurs in the mess, one morning after he’s been up nearly all night mapping out trajectories and planning their next mission with the Captain. He’s bone tired, trudging into the mess after just a quick snatch of sleep. He's just gotten his food and is carrying it to the head table where he sits with Yondu and Peter. The boy is already there, eating next to Yondu. He looks up as he sees Kraglin approaching, then his eyes flick to Kraglin's right, and his mouth opens in warning.

Kraglin sees the stuck-out leg, about a second too late. He goes flying, landing hard on his chin. The fall doesn't phase him. The laughter, however, does. The crewman that tripped him is snickering, so is his table, and soon half the mess is laughing. As he gets to his hands and knees, Kraglin sees Yondu rising from the table. He snaps his head up, gives the Captain a shake of his head, and Yondu resumes his seat. 

Kraglin stands, brushes the food off the front of his jacket, then faster than a flash, he draws the kukri knife out of the sheath on his back - the one that had belonged to Zeede. He nudges it under the laughing crewman's chin. Immediately, the entire hall falls deathly silent.

Kraglin swipes a bit of food off his cheek with his right fist. He speaks, his voice soft and threatening. "Ya think that's funny, do ya, Lavel?"

The Ravager mumbles something, eyes cast down towards his chin.

"Speak up and look at me when I'm talkin' to ya!" Kraglin barks.

Lavel's terrified eyes raise to his. "N-no, it ain't funny."

"No  _sir."_  Kraglin hisses.

"No sir, it ain’t funny sir."

"This gonna happen again, Lavel?"

"No, sir."

"No, it ain't." He slides the knife back out from under Lavel's chin, slowly, and presses ever so slightly to leave a tiny cut at the end of his chin. He holds up up the knife, and a small trickle of blood runs down the blade. "Ain't none of this kinda shit is gonna happen anymore," he says, raising his voice and looking around the hall. "I'm the First Mate now, and y'all are gonna treat me like it. No more a this mumblin' mutterin' talkin' behind my back shit. No more roughin' me up in the halls. Next one of a' ya that does that - I ain't jus' gonna give ya a lil' nick. Y'all got that?" he barks sharply, and there's a resounding chorus of yeah and yes sirs. "Good. Tell yer friends." With that, he wipes the blood off the blade onto Lavel's pant leg, and stalks back to the line to refill his tray. The crew standing there parts for him, allowing him to move to the front of the line.

When he reaches the head table, he slaps his tray down between Yondu and Peter and tucks in without a word. 

Yondu gives him a little nudge, and he turns to the Captain to see a smile of approval. He sighs and shakes his head, then turns to look at Peter, whose eyes have been on him since he sat down. "What, Pete?"

The boy grins up at him, eyes wide. "That was awesome! You’re so cool, Kraglin!"

Kraglin lets out a chuckle, running his fingers through his hair. "Eat yer breakfast, kid."

* * *

He and Peter are going over inventory together; Peter is scrambling up the ladder to list off the names of the parts in each bin in one of the storage hangars, calling them down to Kraglin in Xandarian and Standard, which Yondu’s been making him practice. Kraglin checks them off the list in the holopad, repeating words in English, Peter's native language, which the boy has been teaching him to speak and read. Peter slides down the ladder so Kraglin can move it to the next set of bins and misses the last rung. He slips, falls, and Kraglin catches him under the arms.

To his surprise, Peter lets out a whimpering cry of pain.

"Whoa, whoa, I ain't squeezin' ya that hard, am I?" Kraglin asks, setting the boy down.

Peter shakes his head, and clutches his upper arm, rubbing it gingerly. "No," he says, a tear in his eye, "I just...I - I fell a couple days ago. Hurt my arm."

"Aw, Pete. Why didn't ya say somethin'? Lemme see."

"No, stop-"

But the protest comes too late; Kraglin has already zipped the boy's jacket down and pulled the fabric aside to look at the damage. "Sweet mercy, Peter." A huge area of his skinny arm is black and blue, mottled with tones of green and brown. The pattern looks a little strange for a fall. Carefully, Kraglin peels the jacket down further, and lifts up the short sleeve of the t-shirt Peter wears underneath. His eyes narrow, and he looks at Peter sharply. The boy's eyes are downcast, eyes hidden by his curls. "Ya didn't fall, did ya?"

Peter hangs his head lower.

"Peter, look at me, kid." Hesitantly, Peter raises his eyes. They're afraid. "Ya didn't fall, did ya?" he repeats softly. Peter's lip trembles, and he shakes his head. "Who did this?"

"No, Kraglin don't - he - he said he hurt me again if I tattled."

Kraglin leans down on one knee so he's level with Peter, and gently draws him closer. "Peter, I've told ya I’ll look after ya. Now I'm First Mate, I have the power to take care a' stuff like this. And the Cap'n wouldn't let anyone hurt ya. Tell me who it is, he won't hurt ya no more. Ya can whisper it to me, if ya want."

Peter sniffles and nods his head. He whispers the name in his ear, and Kraglin straightens up. "All right. Ya count these here in this bin while I make a call, all right?"

"Okay."

Kraglin steps aside and presses the button to call Yondu.

_"Yeah Krags."_

"Cap'n, I'd like to have permission to discipline one a' the crew."

_"What's this about?"_

"Peter."

Silence - then, _"Come to the control room."_

"Yessir." Clicking the com off, he says, "C'mon, Pete."

A short time later, a huge Ravager named Hudd climbs the stairs to the control room. "Hey Kraglin," he says. "What did ya need me for?" The last couple words falter as he sees Kraglin's stony face. Next to him is Peter.

"He don't need ya. I do." Yondu's voice says, and Hudd spins on his heel as the control room door closes behind the Captain.

"C-Cap'n. What's goin' on?" he asks. Even though Yondu is considerably smaller than he is, Hudd backs up a step, unsure of the flame in the Centaurian's eyes.

Yondu paces towards him, slowly, deliberately. "Did ya hurt this boy?" he asks, pointing.

"Wh-what?" Hudd asks with a nervous glance at Peter. The boy shrinks further against Kraglin's side. "No. No, of course not."

"No? Huh, that's funny. 'Cause he said ya did. And he has the bruises to prove it. Quill? Show him. Jog his memory."

Peter glances up at Kraglin, who nods down at him with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Peter painfully shrugs out of his jacket, and reveals his arm, which is bruised down to the elbow, distinctive marks of fingers curled around his bicep. Kraglin steels himself, willing his feet to stay planted, and lays his hand at the base of Peter's head as an angry flash goes through Yondu's implant. "So yer tellin' me ya didn't do this."

Hudd swallows. "W-well I - I just moved him outta my way, I didn't know I hurt him-"

Kraglin can hear the lies in his tone. "Ya lyin' to the Cap'n now, Hudd?"

"I-"

Reaching up, Yondu seizes Hudd's collar violently and drags him to his knees in front of Peter. "This boy is ten Terran years, and an eighth yer size," he snarls. "Ya could'a broke his arm easy. And ya have the balls to tell me ya didn't know ya hurt him? Are ya gonna tell me ya that ya didn't warn him not to say anything, neither? That ya threatened to hurt him s'more if he did?" Hudd opens his mouth, and Yondu leans down to look in his face. "Don't ya fuckin' lie t'me again. Did ya, or didn't ya hurt this boy an' threaten him if he squealed on ya?"

"Yes," he whispers. "Yes I did."

With a hold still on his collar, Yondu says, "Get up."

Hudd does so, and just as he's fully standing, Yondu yanks him over to the table in the middle of the room and slams him down over it. Yondu switches his hand from Hudd's collar to his skull, keeping Hudd's face pressed hard against the surface. "Which hand it is it that hurt Quill?"

Kraglin realizes that Yondu is speaking to him, and jumps a little, bending over to study Peter's bruise. "Uh - looks the right, Cap'n."

"C'mere and- ah, ah!" Yondu shouts as Hudd begins to struggle. He whistles, and the arrow flashes out of its holster, buzzing angrily against Hudd's ear, keeping him still against the table. Yondu grabs Hudd's right wrist and slams it up on the table. The Ravager whimpers. "Ya move and I will kill ya," Yondu says, in a deceptively calm voice. "Lay yer hand flat." Trembling, Hudd's fingers uncurl and his palm lays flat against the tabletop. A sharp downward whistle and the arrow makes an arc and drives right through Hudd's hand, pinning him to the table.

Peter gasps loudly and backs up as Hudd lets out a scream.

"Kraglin," Yondu says, looking at the First Mate. "Get out yer knife."

A queasy feeling starts to roil in Kraglin's stomach - he knows what Yondu's going to have him do. He swallows the hesitation down and glances back at Peter. The bruise on his arm is dark and cruel. "Yessir." He reaches over his left shoulder and pulls out the knife with a slight metallic scrape. 

Yondu holds out his hand for the knife, and a momentary relief spread over Kraglin's shoulders. The Captain is going to do it. But he shouldn't. Kraglin volunteered to do the discipline in the first place. "I'll do it, sir."

Yondu looks over at him, slowly. There's protest in his eyes, although why, Kraglin isn't sure. Does Yondu _want_ to do it? Does he want to save Kraglin from the burden?

"Quill," Yondu snaps, "Turn around, put on yer Walk-thing."

"Walkman," Peter corrects reflexively, but snaps his mouth shut and turns, slipping the headphones over his ears and cranking the volume.

Kraglin tightens his grip around the handle of the knife. The blade is strong, and with the right amount of force and angle, it can cut a man's head clean off. He steps closer, raising the knife. Yondu comes up right to him. "Ya don't have to do this, Krags," he says, so quietly that the First Mate barely hears. "Ya don't have to prove nothin'."

"Ain't about that," Kraglin says truthfully. "He hurt Peter."

Yondu gives him a single nod, then turns, and ties a spare neckerchief tight around Hudd's wrist. "I thought I was clear enough to y'all concerning Quill. Guess I was wrong. So yer gonna be a message to the rest a' the crew, not to touch this boy."

Kraglin always keeps the knife sharp and the blade honed. With a single strike, he feels it slice through Hudd’s thick wrist bones. Blood pours onto the table, stemmed only slightly by the tourniquet. Kraglin glances at Peter, who he can tell hears Hudd's screaming, even over the blast of his headphones. The boy has his hands pressed tight against them, and is hunched slightly in the furthest corner of the control room.

"Kraglin, take Hudd to the med bay," Yondu says, tossing Hudd's severed hand down the trash chute. "Bring back some ointment and a cold pack fer Quill."

"Yes, Cap'n."

* * *

Kraglin returns more slowly than he means, his thoughts heavy and troubled. He shouldn’t have made the choice to do it, he should have given Yondu the knife. He doesn't like fighting. He doesn't like violence. He's always been that way. But he's good at it. He grew up in a rough neighborhood and had to learn to defend himself and his sister from the bratty rich kids who threw food and stones at them. Then he was forced to fight for the Skrulls. Fighting, even killing, seems to come naturally to him, and it makes his gut churn. _What does that say about me? What am I?_

"There he is," Yondu's voice breaks him out of his thoughts. He climbed the steps and walked into the control room without realizing it. Kraglin looks up, and sees Peter seated in Yondu's lap. "Did ya take the scenic route or somethin'?"

"Guess so, yeah. Here ya go, Cap'n." He hands over the ointment and cold pack.

As Yondu takes the items, he holds Kraglin's hand for a moment so short that it's barely noticeable. "Ya good?" he asks.

"Yessir."

A single nod, and Yondu squeezes the ointment into his palm, rubbing his hands together, "C'mere, boy."

"Careful, Yondu, it hurts," Peter whimpers.

"I know, Quill," Yondu replies softly, smoothing the ointment over the bruise.

Peter frowns and looks into Yondu's face. "Your fingers are really rough. You should use lotion."

Kraglin fails to bite back a snort of laughter at Yondu's indignant look. The Captain makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I'll get right on that. I'll pick up some on my next trip to Gira."

Peter shivers as Yondu wraps the flexible pack around his arm, molding it loosely to the shape of the limb. Yondu leans over and scoops Peter's jacket off the floor, and wraps it around his other side. "Ya Terrans get cold so easy, ya sissies."

Peter glares up at Yondu, and the Captain laughs and pats his head. "C'mon. I'll let ya drive the ship, whatcha say?"

"Really?" Peter says excitedly. "Ow."

"Well, ya can sit in my lap here and pilot it."

“Aww, c'mon, Yondu. Kraglin's been teaching me a little, I bet I can do it."

"Ha! Pilotin' the Eclector is different than pilotin' an M-ship, boy."

* * *

Yondu walks into the mess to get a late night snack and stops in the doorway. Kraglin is there, slumped over the table, head in his arms, sleeping. There's an empty bowl by his elbow, and a stack of holopads on his opposite side. Yondu chuckles softly, retrieving a can of beasties and snacking on them as he watches the sleeping First Mate. 

It's been almost eight months now since Kraglin was promoted, and he's been working his ass off. He's taken everything Yondu's thrown at him in stride. After the altercation in the mess, the crew has learned to be careful around Kraglin, but he’s done better than just showing them fear. He’s stepped in to help his crewmates with little things and prepare them for missions. In just this short time, he's rallied the crew around Yondu and done his best to get to know most of them - and that's in his minimal spare time. When official duties don't keep him, Yondu has him busy elsewhere. Kraglin took Zeede's kukri knife and begged Yondu to teach him how to fight with it, so he's been giving the First Mate lessons on knife fighting, self-defense, and battle maneuvers – hand-to-hand combat on land and dogfighting in the air. When he's not training his body or piloting, Yondu has him training his mind - the holopads are evidence that Kraglin has not been letting up - he has him studying galactic boundary lines, planetary regulations, star charts, customs - anything that Yondu can think of that his First Mate needs to learn.

With a smirk, the Captain picks a holopad up from the stack, then slaps it down again with a loud bang. 

Kraglin sits bolt upright. "Omega system, third sector," he cries, a spoon clutched in his hand. He blinks at his surroundings, then up at Yondu, who cackles. "Oh, Cap'n," he says, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Third Watch, O-two hundred. They all jus' left ya here, huh?"

With a yawn, Kraglin shakes his head. "No sir. I told 'em to go, hours ago."

Yondu sits, and picks up another holopad, and the screen flickers to life as he raises it. "Nova Corps regulations," he says, shaking his head. "Useful, but gods, I hated learnin' this stuff. I remember when Stakar-" He stops abruptly. He tosses the holopad back onto the pile as his gaze drops to the tabletop. "Nevermind."

Kraglin sits quietly, trying to think of something to say to relieve the sudden tension. "Oh - been teachin' Pete to fly s’more," he says.

Yondu raises his head again, and his eyes brighten slightly. "Oh yeah? How's the boy doin'?"

"Real good," Kraglin admits with a shrug. "I haven't had him take off or land yet, but I think he'll be ready for that soon. We're kinda learnin' some of this together," he says, gesturing to the holopads. "Thought he should know at least some of the important bits, like where the Nova Corps is active, and where the Kree boundaries are, stuff like that."

Yondu nods. "Good thinkin'."

"Hey, uh, Cap'n?"

"Yeah?"

"Pete keeps goin' on about this _birthday_ thing, says this one comin' up is a real big one fer kids on Terra. He's turnin' ten, I guess. Double-digits, he says."

"And?"

"And, I dunno. Maybe we should get him a present or somethin'. He's done real good on all the missions ya put him on lately."

"Yes he has," Yondu agrees quietly, tapping a finger on the table. He stares off across the mess, eyes focusing on nothing in particular as he thinks. The he smiles, turning back to Kraglin. "Ya two still fixin' up that M-ship ya were workin' on a few months back?"

"Yeah, Pete and I been workin' hard on her, whenever we get the time. Not a lot left to do on her, but we haven’t worked on it fer about a month or so. Why?”

"I have an idea."

* * *

"Where are we goin'?" Peter whines. "It's so early."

“You’ll see, boy.” Yondu says. They’re heading in the direction of the hangar.

Kraglin glances at the Captain and smiles. Yondu is even more excited about this than he is, eyes sparkling and mouth stretched in a wide grin.

Peter glances up at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re acting so weird. _Both_ of you are,” he adds as Kraglin lets out a laugh that could be confused for a giggle.

Yondu cuffs him lightly behind them head, then says, “Close yer eyes.”

 “What?” Peter says, stopping. “No way!”

“Fer flark’s sake, Quill. Ain’t tryin’ to trick ya or nothing, jus’ close yer eyes!”

“Okay, okay! Jeez.” With a huff, Peter slaps his hands over his eyes.

Taking him by the collar, Yondu steers the boy into the hangar, and nods at Kraglin to get the lights. Once everything is in place, Yondu says, “Okay, boy. Ya can open yer eyes.”

Peter lifts his hands away from his face, and frowns at the vessel illuminated before him. He turns uncertainly to Kraglin and Yondu. "So what? It's just the ship that Krags and I have been working on."

"Tha's right. And it's all yours, son," Yondu says, nodding at it.

Peter gives him a narrow-eyed look of confusion before his mouth hangs open and he turns back to the ship, then back to Yondu again.  _"What?"_

“Happy Birthday,” Kraglin says.

Yondu nods, grinning. "It’s yer ship. Happy Birthday, Quill."

Peter's face lights up like a star and he lets out a small cry of excitement before running smack into Yondu and wrapping his arms tight around the Captain's waist, burying his face in his chest. "Thank you, Yondu!”

Yondu staggers back slightly with the impact, his cheeks flushing purple. He pats the boy's head awkwardly before catching Kraglin's smile and shoving the child off. "Okay, that's enough. Kraglin helped git her all done, so...."

Peter lets go of Yondu and flings himself at Kraglin, hugging him; Kraglin happily returns the embrace. "Thanks, Krags! This is the best - well - second best birthday present I ever got!"

Yondu snorts, "Second best?"

Peter holds up his Walkman. "Hard to beat this. But this -" he turns to the ship and throws his arms wide. "This is amazing! It's all mine, _for real?”_

"Yep. Ya jus' gotta give it a name, paint her the way ya like – and learn to fly her proper, a’course."

"It's gonna have the _best_ name!” Peter says, running around the ship. “And I've already talked to Kraglin about colors! Blue with orange stripes down the middle."

Yondu chuckles and rolls his eyes. "Not one fer subtlety, are ya, Quill."

Peter ignores the comment and, circling back in front of Yondu, hops up and down. "Can I fly it? Can we go out right now?"

Yondu chuckles. "All right, boy. Let me see what ya can do.”

* * *

That night, Peter lets out a contented sigh as he rolls over onto the bunk that they set up in Kraglin’s First Mate quarters. “I can’t believe you guys even made a birthday cake.”

Kraglin snorts with laughter as he tosses his jacket on the floor and flings himself into bed. “Well, we _tried._ Guess that counts fer somethin’. At least Gef didn’t burn the ship down tryin’ to light yer candles.”

Peter laughs. “Yeah.”

“Ya did real good in the ship today, Pete. I think the Cap’n was impressed.”

“Psh, no he wasn’t. Yondu’s never impressed with anything I do.”

“Sure he is,” Kraglin says, sitting up to look at him. Thought of ya enough to get ya the ship, didn’t he?”

Peter props himself up on one elbow. “Well, yeah, I guess so.”

“See? Now go t’bed, we got a mission to go on tomorrow.” He reaches behind his head and turns out the light.

"Hey Krags?" the boy’s voice comes after a few minutes in the dark.

"Yeah, Pete."

"Thanks for the ship. That was really cool of you."

Kraglin laughs quietly. "Well, jus' don't go crashin' or anythin’. Ya gotta take real good care of it. Jus’ like yer Walkman."

"I will, I promise,” comes Peter’s earnest reply.

Kraglin smiles to himself in the dark, folds his hands over his chest, and closes his eyes.

“Hey Krags?”

He chuckles a little and opens one eye. “Yeah, Pete.”

“I thought of a name. For the ship.”

“What’s that?” he murmurs.

“The _Milano.”_


	22. Xandar

The crew of the _Eclector_ has been to Xandar plenty of times, but Kraglin himself has not touched a foot down on the planet’s surface since the Skrulls took him away. He’s afraid of what he’s going to see, of what he’s going to feel, and afraid of who will recognize him. But now he’s First Mate, and there’s jobs to be done.

He and Yondu are meeting with the Broker, a merchant who has a shop in Xandar’s affluent capital city. Kraglin covers his normal Ravager wear with a poncho, because Xandar is the Nova Corps’ main hub, but Yondu doesn’t seem to care and strolls around, Ravager flame in plain sight. To Kraglin’s relief, the Captain doesn’t say a word against the poncho.

“Ah, Yondu Udonta,” the small man says as they enter, blinking at him from behind the counter at the far end of the room. “How may I assist you today?” He glances up and down at Kraglin. “Where is your First Mate?”

Yondu nods back at Kraglin. “He _is_ my First Mate. The old one got himself killed. Asked too many questions,” he says pointedly, and the Broker clears his throat, fiddling with a little figurine on the counter. “Ah, yes. Yes. What do you have for me?”

After the transaction is completed, Kraglin stands outside, looking about him. He was only in this fancy uptown district once before, and it doesn’t look much different.

“Gonna hit up a bar in the Aroda district,” Yondu says, adjusting his duster. “More Ravager-friendly over there. The Blue Pearl, it’s called. Ya know it?”

Kraglin nods. “I know where the Aroda district is; I’ll find it.”

“Yer not comin’?”

“I’ll meet ya there later, there’s somethin’ I need to do first in the East End.”

Yondu nods. “We’ll be leavin’ at 1100, make sure yer there by then.”

“Yessir.”

* * *

Peter is bored out of his mind, being dragged around by Tullk on Xandar. He finally sees Yondu and Kraglin leave the shop they’ve been in for nearly an hour, and Peter carefully gives Tullk the slip after seeing Kraglin wander in the opposite direction.

The poncho Kraglin is wearing makes him blend in a little easier with the rest of the Xandarians milling around, but luckily the First Mate on the tall side, so Peter has no trouble keeping him in his sights. He bobs and weaves through the crowd, making a game of following Kraglin. About fifteen minutes into his walk, Kraglin disappears inside a little shop, and emerges a few minutes later with something in a small, loosely-wrapped parcel. He tucks it inside his poncho, and walks.

And walks, and walks. And walks.

Peter is just about to say to hell with it and let Kraglin know he’s following him, when he notices the surroundings start to change from clean upper class lodgings to more run-down structures. Windows are broken, the flora isn’t upkept, and everything has a general air of shabbiness. A group of scruffy looking children are playing with a ball up the street, kicking it off their knees and their heads, not letting it touch the ground, and it slams off Kraglin’s shoulder to drop at his feet.

Peter quickly hides behind the corner of a nearby building to watch.

Kraglin stumbles slightly from the impact of the ball, then stares at the children, who gape back at him with wide eyes, gazes lingering on the scars over his eye.

With a quick, practiced flick of his toe, he sends the balls spinning up into the air again, bounces it twice off his knee, and headbutts it back into the group of children, who laugh and continue their game.

The buildings become increasingly more dilapidated, and there are some rough-looking individuals hanging around in the alleys. Peter is glad he has his blaster at his hip, but he feels more saddened by the surroundings than scared. Kraglin’s pace slows as they pass a small house. It’s obviously deserted, the windows are dark and cheerless. The roof is sagging, the paint peeling, and what is left of a once supposedly pretty little garden is choked with weeds.

Peter watches Kraglin’s face as the First Mate stops completely in front of the dwelling. Slowly, the First Mate picks his way around the broken glass and wooden beams lying across the front walk, and using his glove, cleans a circle to peer through one of the dirty, unbroken window panes on the front door. When he draws back, his posture is low and hunched. His head hangs slightly as he moves back towards the sidewalk. He walks a few paces forward, takes a last, longing look at the house, then moves forward, picking up his pace.

Peter has to jog to keep up. The First Mate skirts down a side street and takes the left fork in the road up a hill, through a crusty old gate leading into a park. His pace slows but doesn’t falter – he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

Peter gets about halfway through the park, about a hundred feet behind Kraglin, when he realizes where he is.

It’s not a park. It’s a cemetery.

There are little white half-circule structures lined everywhere, sticking out of the ground like half moons. Each has a little alcove carved out in the middle of them. He bites his lip. He should have stayed with Tullk. If Kraglin is here, it means he’s visiting someone. Peter glances back at the cemetery entrance, but it’s too late now. If he doesn’t keep Kraglin in his sights, he’ll never find his way back to Yondu or get back to the _Eclector._ And then he’ll be in _big_ trouble. So, Peter quietly resumes following, ducking behind a tree as he comes up on the First Mate sooner than expected.

Kraglin is standing before one of the grave markers that is positioned underneath a flowering silver-barked tree – one of the only cheerful-looking things in the otherwise drab park. The purple petals flutter down from time to time, joining their fallen fellows in a carpet on the ground. Kraglin takes his gloves off and brushes the petals off the top of the marker, and out of the alcove. Then he gets down on both knees and, bending, touches his forehead to the base of the marker. Without Kraglin blocking the marker, Peter can just make out the words _Valren Obfonteri_ carved on its surface in Xandarian. His heart constricts in his chest.

Kraglin reaches into his poncho and retrieves the parcel. He carefully unwraps it, folding the paper back inside his pocket, and in his hand, Peter can see he’s holding some type of large flower bud. Kraglin places this gingerly inside the alcove.

Looking around, Peter sees other markers have these same flowers. Some are dead, lying in dry withered curls on the ground. He hears Kraglin speak and takes a few steps forward to try and hear him.

_Crunch._

Peter gasps and jumps back, staring down at the branch under his boot, then snaps his gaze back up.

Kraglin has jumped to his feet and is facing him, blaster drawn and pointed at him. His eyes are fierce. Once he sees it’s Peter, the angry light in his eyes fades, and Kraglin lowers his weapon and holsters it again. “Peter? What the hel- uh, I mean,” he says with a wary backwards glance at the grave, “What are ya doin’ here, Peter?”

“I’m – I’m sorry, Kraglin, I followed you, but I didn’t know you were coming to – to a place like this. I’m sorry.”

“Does the Cap’n know where ya are?”

“No.”

“I’ll call him when I’m done here if he don’t call me first. Yer probably gonna get in trouble fer runnin’ off like that.”

Peter nods, lowering his head until he feels Kraglin’s hand slide over his shoulder, steering him towards the grave. “C’mere.” Once they reach it, Kraglin kneels down again, and pulls Peter down with him. “Touch yer head down,” he says softly.

Peter touches his forehead to the ground, bending like Kraglin had.

“There ya go.” Kraglin straightens the flower bud in the alcove, then shielding the alcove with his hands, blows a warm breath softly onto it. The bud shivers slightly and unfurls, revealing a glowing golden interior that lights up its pearly petals. “As long as it’s glowin’,” Kraglin says softly, “It means that the soul of yer loved one is back to visit with ya.” He clears his throat, blinks several times, settles back on his heels, and clears his throat again. “H-hello Momma,” he says, and Peter gasps softly, staring at the marker.

“I uh, I know it’s been – it’s been awhile. I’m sorry I haven’t been by.” Kraglin feels Peter’s hand slip into his, and stares down at the boy, who has tears on his cheeks. He holds the boy’s hand tightly and turns back to the marker. “There’s so much that’s happened since ya…. Since I saw ya last. I’m jus’… I’m real sorry about….” He can’t bring himself to say Vara’s name – it’s stuck in his throat and if he tries to say it aloud, he’s going to cry. He closes his eyes for a moment, then raises them, watching a ripple of petals break free off the tree’s branches and cascade down. “I’m real sorry about what happened,” he says, voice cracking. “I wish I could have done more. But – uh.” He clears his throat. “I’m doin’ good now, I’m uh – I’m a Ravager, who would’a thunk. First Mate, even. It’s a steady job, and I got good friends, and I’m eatin’ plenty a’ food and stuff.” He squeezes Peter’s hand and nods his head at the boy. “This is Peter Quill, he’s from Terra, and he’s been livin’ with us on the ship. He’s a real good kid, he helps me out a lot.” He turns to the boy, who has scooted closer to Kraglin so that their elbows are touching. “Ya want to say hello, Pete?”

“Oh,” Peter says, wiping at his wet cheeks. “Uh, hi Mrs. Kraglin’s Mom. I’m Peter. Um…” He fidgets slightly. “Kraglin is one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He keeps me safe, and he takes real good care of me. He’s pretty awesome. So, yeah….I hope you’re very proud of him, cuz you should be.”

Kraglin presses his lips tight together, trying to hold back tears as he wraps an arm around Peter and pulls him against his side. Peter curls his arms around Kraglin’s waist, and they just sit there, kneeling on the ground for a several minutes until the flower’s light begins to die. “Can ya give me a few minutes, Pete?” Kraglin says, his voice strained.

Peter nods, and retreats a respectful distance away, still within Kraglin’s line of vision, but out of earshot to give the First Mate some privacy.

“I’m so sorry, Momma,” Kraglin says again, voice coming out in a broken whisper. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Ya asked me to take care of her, and I couldn’t. I know nothin’ I can do will ever make up for losin’…losin’ her, but I’m tryin’ with Peter.” He swallows, scrubbing at one eye. “Listen, if ya meet a lady named Meredith Quill up there somewhere, can ya jus’ tell her that there’s a lil’ boy who misses her, and loves her very much, and that she should be real proud a’ him, because I sure am.” The light is faint now. “Thanks fer listenin’ Momma. I wish I had more time, there’s so much to say. I – I miss ya a lot, ya and Vara. Tell her I’m so sorry, and that I love her, I love her so much. I love ya, I wish ya were here.” The light is gone completely, and Kraglin gets to his feet, wiping tears from his cheeks. He takes a deep, shaking breath, then another, and another, until he’s composed enough to rejoin Peter.

He takes the boy’s hand in his and leads him from the cemetery. They walk in silence for a long time, passing the run-down house, and the group of playing children.

“I didn’t know about your mom,” Peter says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kraglin replies quietly, squeezing his hand. “I was pretty little when it happened. She was a good Momma.” He falls silent again, glancing down at Peter’s somber face from time to time. He wants to say something funny, to see Peter smile again, to reassure himself that things aren’t so sad. “My Momma had a nickname fer me,” he says awkwardly, and Peter looks up. “She called me Kraggles,” he admits with an embarrassed laugh. It sounds strange coming from his own lips. “So did…” He’s going to say _Vara_ but he still can’t say her name today. “So did yer momma have any nicknames fer ya?” he asks instead.

Peter fidgets a little. “She called me Star-Lord.” His cheeks flush pink.

Kraglin smiles down at him. “Star-Lord? Huh, that’s kinda cool.”

Peter looks up at him hopefully. “You think?” He gives Kraglin a dubious frown. “You’re not just teasing?”

Kraglin shakes his head. “Bein’ fully serious. S’like one a’ them hero names or somethin’.”

“I was thinking more like _Star-Lord, legendary outlaw_.” Peter spreads his fingers and gestures wide, swooping both hands through the air in front of them.

Kraglin chuckles. “Okay, Star-Lord. Let’s get yer lil’ outlaw ass to the bar. Maybe I’ll let ya have a sip a’ my beer.”

“Awesome! Is it good?”

“Nope.” They both laugh. “Hey Pete,” Kraglin says after the laughter has died away, “Don’t worry about the Cap’n. I’ll tell him I took ya with me and forgot to let him know.”

Peter breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks. He’d have me cleaning all the M-ships toilets for a year!”

They continue walking, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking.

“Uh, Kraglin?”

“We’re almost there, Pete. Look, there’s the Cap’n.”

“No, not that – I think somebody’s following us.”

Kraglin turns, and stops in his tracks. They _are_ being followed. At the sight of their pursuer, his mouth goes dry, heart pumping fast. “P-Peter, go on ahead. I’ll – I’ll be right behind ya.”

“Are you okay?”

_“Go.”_

Peter takes off in a jog towards Yondu, and the Captain draws him to his side, eyes locked on the First Mate. A tall Xandarian man is approaching him. The stranger’s intentions don’t appear hostile, but Kraglin takes a few, stumbling steps away from him, holding out his hands as if to prevent him from coming closer. “Quill, go inside. Find Tullk and stay with him. Don’t ya argue with me.”

Peter doesn’t answer, but nods and heads inside the building with a glance in Kraglin’s direction.

Looking back at Kraglin, Yondu sees that all the color has drained the First Mate's face, and he's stumbling backwards on shaking legs. “No,” Yondu hears him say. “G-get back.” The stranger gestures to himself, then reaches for Kraglin.

Kraglin draws his blaster. 

Yondu's eyes widen and he whistles. Kraglin jumps back, nearly dropping his blaster as the arrow dances in front of him. "The hell you doin' boy? Ya can’t jus’ fire on a civilian." Yondu asks, striding up to him.

Kraglin stutters, stammers out unintelligible words, so instead Yondu rounds to the Xandarian man. "And jus’ who the hell do ya think ya are, harassin' my crew?"

 _"Your crew?”_ The man echoes, incredulous, his eyes widening. “I’m – this is – I’m his _father!”_

Yondu’s stomach feels as though it’s turned to lead. His eyes open incredulously wide, and he turns to Kraglin. "That true, boy?" he asks in a hushed voice.

Kraglin's face is flushed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He nods. “Y-Yessir,” he breathes out in a shaking voice.

Yondu turns slowly back to the man, balling his fists to try and keep his growing anger in check. _"Yer Kraglin's father."_ He surveys him. He looks like Kraglin, tall and skinny, same nose. But his eyes aren’t the same, and he can tell just by looking at him that he doesn't have the spine that Kraglin does. But he already knew that. "Kraglin’s father,” he repeats. He takes a step closer and his voice quickly rises from a normal volume to a loud snarl. “Ya care to tell me why ya sold yer boy to the _damn_   _Skrulls_?"

The man takes a step back, eyes bulging. "How did you – I mean, I didn't know – I was in debt, I didn't think -"

"NO, you sure as _hell_ didn't think! Ya sold yer son into fuckin' _SLAVERY!"_ The arrow buzzes over his shoulder, spinning madly. He gathers the man's jacket in his hands and yanks him close. His voice drops to a hiss. "Do you have any idea what they did to that boy? _Any idea?_ Ya know what they did to yer little girl?"

The man freezes. "V-Vara? Where is she-"

"Don't fuckin’ say her name!" Kraglin interrupts. "Ya don't get to say her name!"

"What happened?” Kraglin’s father whispers fearfully. “Where-"

"She's _dead!"_ The scream that rips from Kraglin's throat is raw. "She wouldn't be if you hadn't sold us! If you hadn't gambled away _everything_! It's all your damn fault!" Kraglin charges forward, but Yondu holds him back. The boy’s going to do something that he’ll regret, and Yondu can't let Kraglin bear that on his shoulders. But him? He’ll be happy to take that on.

The Captain releases Kraglin's father roughly, pushing him back. "Say the word and he's dead, boy," he says, and whistles. The arrow advances, whisks into place just shy of the man's nose.

He hears Kraglin suck in breath. There's a long silence, a shuddering breath, and then, "No."

Yondu turns his head slightly in Kraglin's direction. "No?"

"No. He ain't - he ain't worth it."

The Ravager Captain hears Kraglin walk away. His father tries to side step around Yondu to follow him, but Yondu grips his collar and hauls him back. “Don’t ya fuckin’ dare follow him. Ya done enough damage to that poor boy, Ah won’t have ya doin’ more. Ya had yer chance to be Kraglin’s daddy, and ya threw it away the day ya sold him into slavery. Ya don’t get a second chance. Ya don’t jus’ get to waltz into his life and try again. Ya gave up that right the day ya gave him up to the Skrulls.” He gathers the man’s shirt in his hands and pulls him close. “Yer gonna walk away now, because yer baby boy that ya sold jus’ saved yer pathetic ass. But if Ah ever _EVER_ see ya near that boy ‘gain, so help me, Ah will run my arrow through yer body so many fuckin’ times they won’t be able to identify yer corpse!” Yondu releases the Xandarian with a push that sends him reeling. “Git the hell outta here.”

With tears in his eyes, the man struggles to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and dashes away.

Turning, Yondu sees Kraglin walking in the opposite direction of the bar, back towards the transport to the space dock where the _Eclector_ is anchored. Yondu runs after him, and reaches out to catch his arm. He steers the First mate into an empty alley. “Ya okay, boy?” he asks, turning Kraglin around. He immediately takes a step back.

The First Mate’s face is flushed and streaked with tears. Yondu feels like he’s going to drown in the anguish of the blue eyes. Kraglin buries his head in his hands, and with a heartbreaking sob, stumbles back against the brick wall.

It’s in that moment that Yondu remembers just how _young_ Kraglin still is. He always forgets, because he’s always acted older. He’s taken on so much, and all with a maturity that betrays his real age. At eighteen, he might just be the youngest First Mate in any Ravager Clan, ever. He acts like a man, but he’s only eighteen. He’s still a boy in Yondu’s eyes. And this boy has just been confronted with every memory that he’s been fighting to keep out of his daydreams and nightmares, thanks to the man that turned his life into a living hell.

“Krags,” Yondu whispers. He takes a few steps forward, and gripping Kraglin’s poncho, pulls his skinny frame into his arms. There’s a moment of struggle as the First Mate tries to escape, but Yondu only hold him tighter. “No, no. Hush, boy. It’s okay.” Almost instantly, Yondu feels the boy fall into his embrace, winding his arms around him and clenching his fingers in his duster.

“He – he jus’ –” Kraglin sobs, “How could he-”

“I know, boy,” Yondu says softly, cradling Kraglin’s head against his shoulder. “I know. Let it out, I got ya.” He doesn’t know how long he stands there, holding him. On some level, he knows he’s being soft, he knows it’s awkward, knows that if he’s seen by the wrong person, his entire Captaincy might be at stake, but he really doesn’t give a shit. He and Kraglin are cut of the same cloth, abandoned by parents that were supposed to take care of them, love them, protect them. “It’s all right, son.”

Kraglin begins to quiet, but Yondu feels fresh tears spill onto his neck. “What if I’m like him?” comes his horrified whisper.

 _“What?”_ Yondu asks, holding him out.

“What if – what if I’m a bad person like him,” Kraglin cries. “What if I’m good at fightin’ and killin’ n’ stuff because I’m bad like my father? What if-”

“Stop, Krags,” Yondu says, holding either side of the First Mate’s face in his hands. “Y’ain’t _nothin’_ like that man. He’s a monster. And ya remember what I said to ya, yer first night as a Ravager? What did I tell ya? Huh?”

 “M’ not a monster.”

“Damn right, and don’t ya forget it. Yer a good man, a great Ravager, and a helluva First Mate. Yer _nothin’_ like him.” Yondu pulls him in for another brief hug and claps him on the shoulder. “Ya listen t’me, now. That man was _not_ a daddy to ya, ya hear? He didn’t take care a’ ya like he was supposed to. But I will. So don’tcha think about him no more, put him outta yer mind. He ain’t gonna trouble ya again, I promise.”

Kraglin takes a deep breath and nods as a single, final tear trickles down his cheek. He scrubs it away. “Thanks, Cap’n,” he says hoarsely. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry? What the hell fer?”

“Cryin’,” he replies quietly. “I-”

“No,” Yondu interrupts. “Don’t ya apologize, boy. Ya got every right. I don’t hold it against ya, not after that.” He slips his fist under Kraglin’s chin and raises his head to look into his eyes. “Ya hear me, Kraglin?”

He sniffs and lets the tiniest, unsteady smile grace his lips. “Yessir.”

“Good.” Yondu steps back and straightens his coat. “Now come on, we both need a drink.”

Kraglin lets out a wet little chuckle. “Or three.”

Yondu grins. “Or ten.”

They drink the night away, and as Yondu helps his drunken First Mate back to the ship, he makes sure the boy is safe in his bed before he retires to his own cabin.


	23. Special Mission

Yondu sits in the mess, looking over job offers. He swipes through different holopads, rejecting offer after offer – too much risk, too little reward. He’s about to throw the holopad down and pick up another when a mission catches his eye. _Sarran, one of Xandar’s high-end, off-world colonies…businessman…massive fortune…heiress…_ Yondu cocks his head. Sounds promising. He leans back in his seat, reading the details. It seems that there’s a high-ranking businessman, whose only heir is his orphaned niece. She has access to his penthouse and all of his assets. A quick search on the holonet, and Yondu brings her up. She’s Xandarian, young and very pretty. A smile forms on his face, a plan forming in his mind. If he could get one of his crew to woo this girl and get the access codes to her uncle’s penthouse, then they could be rolling in it. He looks up from his holopad, searching the faces in the mess.

 _Horuz? No, too grouchy, and a lil’ too old. Quill? Ha, not a chance._ The 16-year-old has been an unholy terror lately, dishing out sass like there’s no tomorrow. Yondu has him confined to kitchen duty for the next month. _Taserface?_ He snorts. _Hell no._ _Tullk? ….ehh, no. All m’crew are too ugly, too old, too rough, too scarred._ He sighs. _Gonna have to wipe this one off the table._

“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Kraglin says, sitting across from him. He digs into his meal hungrily.

Yondu’s finger hovers over the holopad screen as he looks at Kraglin. _Now hold on a jus’ a minute here. Boy’s not bad lookin’. Sure, he’s got some scars, but we could put makeup on that, cover up them tattoos…yeah. The girl’s what…_ He glances at the holopad. _Early twenties. Perfect._ “Kraglin. Smile fer me.”

Kraglin looks up, swallowing. “Huh?”

“Smile, idjit.”

The First Mate laughs nervously and gives Yondu a smile. The Captain nods. _This could work. Hafta cover up them silver caps somehows, but this could work._ Yondu grins back. “What do ya think ‘bout this girl?” He pulls up a picture of her and slides the holopad across the table.

Kraglin pulls it towards him, and blue tinges his cheeks. “W-wow. She’s beautiful. Who is she?”

Yondu smiles. “Yer target.”

“What?” he yelps.

“Ya’re gonna woo this girl.”

“Woo? No. No, no, Cap’n – I can’t – I can’t _woo_ anybody! I ain’t charmin’ or nothin’! ‘Sides, who’d take a second look at me?”

“Krags. C’mon. Them blue eyes a yers? I betcha turn plenty a’ heads.”

The First Mate’s cheeks flush darker.

“C’mon, boy. The score on this is gonna be _big._ And ya might get to sleep with a pretty girl – a _real girl.”_

Kraglin glances up at him, then back at the picture of the girl. “She…she ain’t gonna get hurt or nothin’?”

“Nope.”

“What’s her name?”

“Ruby Rul. Her uncle is Revul Rul, one of the richest men on Sarran – or Xandar for that matter.”

“Ruby,” Kraglin repeats quietly, staring at the picture. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, what do I gotta do?”

* * *

“C’mon, boy! Let me see ya!”

Kraglin’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. “All due respect - I hate ya, s _ir.”_

Yondu cackles. “Get yer ass out here! Ya said ya’d do it.”

“Ya didn’t say I was gonna have to do _this!_ ”

“Well, it weren’t part of the original plan, but things change! Ya gotta be flexible. Now git out here, or I’m gonna come and git ya myself and drag ya out!” The small team of Ravagers around him laughs.

“Okay, okay! _Dammit.”_

Yondu grins. Turns out from his inside source that it’s the little princess’ coming of age party this weekend, and she is being taken out by her friends to some exclusive male strip joint. Yondu made a bargain with the owner to put Kraglin on a private stage for her. Kraglin was absolutely _mortified_ when Yondu told him, but it was too late to back out. Now Yondu just has to make sure that Kraglin will be convincing. He hopes the boy isn’t too skinny to play the part, or they might have to have to figure out some other way to get him in front of this girl.

Kraglin opens the door and steps out. He’s wearing a pair of high-cut shorts and his boots – and nothing else. Yondu and the rest of the Ravagers are silent for a moment – Kraglin’s much more muscular than he lets on. Lean, but wiry, and he’s finally filling out his skinny frame a little. After a few seconds of quiet, Tullk lets out a teasing whistle, and they all laugh, including Kraglin, who blushes furiously, glaring at them. “Shut up.”

“Try not to blush too much, boy,” Yondu chuckles. “Remember, yer a stripper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groans.

“Let me see dem teeth.”

Kraglin sighs, shifting his weight to one side, and crosses his arms before grinning at Yondu murderously, showing the pearly white caps covering his silver ones.

“Ooh, pose jus’ like that. She’ll love it.”

“Ya sure ya don’t wanna cover up the scars or tattoos?” Kraglin asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We’ll cover up the tattoos, but not the scars. It'll give her some intrigue."

"I can't believe I'm doin' this."

"Yer gonna be great. Ya been practicin'? Dancin', I mean?"

He sighs. “Yeah – but I _ain’t_ dancin’ in front a’ them!” he adds in a shout as Yondu opens his mouth, pointing at Tullk, Olbo and Horuz.

“Oh come on, Krags,” Peter laughs from the doorway, peeking into the room. “Bet you’re a regular heartbreaker!” He clasps his hands and bats his eyes obnoxiously.

“Ain’t ya supposed to be cleanin’ somethin’?” Kraglin snaps.

With a laugh, Peter’s gone and there’s the sound of running feet on the grating.

He and Yondu look at each other. “At least ya get to escape him fer a day or two,” Yondu says with a roll of his eyes.

“Tha’s a good point,” Kraglin says, crossing his arms again. “Can I put m’pants back on now?”

“Git, then we’ll go over the rest of the plan.”

* * *

That weekend, Kraglin is waiting behind the curtain of his private stage with Yondu. He feels sick. “I can’t believe I’m doin’ this,” he says for at least the tenth time that day, shaking his head. “Ya owe fer this one, Cap,” says with a shaky grin.

Yondu lets out a low chuckle in favor of the loud bark of laughter he wants to release. “Sure, Krags. Ya git this done proper, I’ll give ya whatever ya want. Now jus’ relax. Yer gonna do great. Jus’ stick to the plan, remember the end goal, get that info anyway ya gotta. Above all, be confident,” he says, holding up finger. “The moment ya let that confidence slip, yer made.” He slaps his shoulder. “And don’t’ forget to have fun, boy,” Yondu adds with a smirk, and disappears.

“Ya better not be recordin’ this!” Kraglin hisses after him. The First Mate groans and drags his fingers down over his eyes, dragging his eyelids. _How do I get m’self into these things?_ It’s not the first time he’s pretended to be something else – he’s impersonated people from Nova Corps officers to clergymen, but this is by _far_ the most embarrassing, and in some ways the most challenging. He takes a deep breath as he hears the music start up. _Aw flarkin’ hell. Breathe, Kraglin. Ya can do this. Yer the First Mate, dammit. Ya can do this. Jus’ concentrate, be confident. Focus on Ruby. Be confident._

After letting out a steady breath, he sets his face into a teasing smirk and slips out from behind the curtain. He closes his eyes as bright lights envelop him, reaching for the pole that he knows is in the middle of the small, private stage. He knows every inch of the platform and the room – he studied every nook and cranny until he could walk through it completely blind. His fingers close around the pole, and he lets himself swing around it; he hears cheering at the end of the stage. By the time he’s made a full circle, his vision has adjusted, and he sees a group of young women crowded around a long curved table at the end of the platform. He swallows. “Hello ladies,” he says, and to his relief the words come out strong and smooth, and they all shriek and giggle madly. His gaze falls on Ruby. She’s even more beautiful in person, with dark hair and bright green eyes. He locks in her gaze, and winks. An embarrassed, shy smile streaks across her features as her face turns a pale shade of blue, and she hides her face in her hands. Around her, her friends nudge her and continue laughing.

“I said, hello ladies!” he calls again, louder, swaggering forward on the stage.

“Hello!” they call back.

“My, don’t y’all look pretty tonight.”

Another round of giggles. He leans his back against the pole, grasping it with one hand above his head, and pulls his jacket zipper down with his other hand. He’s wearing some kind of soft, black sparkly suit, leather boots and leather gloves. Ruby’s face is visible again, and he lifts a glove to his face, biting on one of the fingers. Rising slowly up the pole, he removes the glove slowly off his hand with his teeth. He tosses it at his feet, swings around the pole again and emerges, biting off the other glove. “Which one a’ y’all is Ruby?” he asks, flicking the glove over his shoulder. He peels the jacket down over his shoulders.

“She is! She is!” All of the girls pull Ruby into a standing position. Her face is bright blue now, and there’s a spark of anger in her eyes as she slaps one of the girl’s hands off her arm.

“Hello Ruby,” Kraglin says, removing the jacket completely to reveal a low-necked tank. Grasping the pole down low, he leans forward, far over the edge of the stage and the ladies’ table, and hands the jacket to her.

A giggle escapes her lips and she takes the jacket, holding it to her chest. “H-hello,” she says in a soft, pretty voice.

He smiles wide at her, flashing his white teeth. “Ruby, darlin’, somebody paid fer a private lil’ session, back in my room,” he says, nodding his head to the door to the left of the stage.

 _“Oh. My. Gods!”_ one of the girls cries. “Ruby, you’re so lucky!”

Kraglin laughs. “So what’s the occasion?”

“Nothi-” Ruby begins, but one of the other girls leaps up.

“It’s her coming of age weekend!” she calls out, and Ruby glares at her.

“Aww, and ya came to see me? Ain’t that nice a’ ya.” He reaches up to a hidden compartment above the pole and retrieves a flower that Yondu put there. He bends down and offers it to Ruby. “Congratulations, Miss Ruby. Thanks fer spendin’ yer special night here with us.”

Ruby takes the flower from his fingers, ignoring nudges the other girls are giving her. “Thank you,” she says with a shy smile.

“After my lil’ show I’ll meet ya back there, so don’t run away.” He winks again and looks at all the girls. “I only have until the song ends, ladies! Whatcha want to come off next?” he asks slyly, fingering the edge of his tank.

“The shirt! The shirt!”

“The _pants!”_

He removes his shirt, but he’s slow enough with his tease that he only gets as far as tossing his belt among the girls, to his relief. They seem happy enough with that, although they pout and try to convince him to perform another few minutes. “Sorry, girls,” he says with a slight blush, slicking a hand through his hair. “I gotta give Ruby her private session now.” He leaps neatly off the stage, throwing a towel about his neck.

Ruby is trying to sneak out the door, but her friends pull her back and push her towards Kraglin. “How ‘bout it, darlin’?” he grins.

"Go!” one friend says, giving her a shove forward. She trips on one of her high-heeled shoes.

Kraglin lunges forward to catch her before she collides with the edge of the table. "Whoa, whoa, easy. Ya okay?"

She raises her eyes to his from under long lashes, and his breath catches. "Thanks. I -"

"We're not letting you come back out until you've spent at least a half hour in there!" shouts one of her friends.

"Oh stars," she groans, putting her face in her hands.

"We don't have to do anything, we can jus' sit and talk if ya’d like," Kraglin offers softly. "It's paid fer, either way. Be nice to take a break and jus' have someone to talk to fer a change."

"Really?" she asks hopefully, peeking over her fingers.

"Yeah." He smiles, and her eyes widen, cheeks darkening. He offers her his hand, and she slips one of her hands - silky soft - into his.

"Oh, your hands are rough," she says.

"Y-yeah. Sorry." _Dammit, hope that don’t give me away._

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” She smiles, and his heart skips a beat.

He leads her to the small room behind his stage and closes the door. It has a small ice box, a table, and a generous chaise lounge. He gestures to the sofa, and she sits, drawing her arms around herself.

“I’m Kraglin by the way,” he says, extending a hand and bowing his head a little.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Ruby.” She laughs nervously. “But I guess you already knew that part. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kraglin.”

“Likewise. Ruby’s a real pretty name.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“This yer first time here?”

A fresh blush spreads over her face. “Y-yeah.”

“I’m guessin’ it was yer friends’ idea?”

She rolls her eyes. “They’re not my friends. They’re just daughters of my uncle’s business associates that like to be seen with me. I was just being polite when they asked me to go out; I didn’t realize I’d be coming here. Believe me, I’d much rather be at the library or a charity function.” Her eyes widen, and she reaches forward to grasp his hand. “Oh, not that there’s anything wrong with you. You seem –” She cocks her head. “You seem really nice for a stripper.”

Kraglin laughs. “Oh, know a lot a strippers, do ya?” he asks with a wink.

Ruby shakes her head. “No, of course not. I-” she catches herself, and bites her lip. “I’m sorry. That was entirely uncalled for. You’re right. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions about what people are like. I’ve actually been trying not to do that.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I appreciate that. So, ya must be pretty important, with fancy girls like that wantin’ a piece a’ yer spotlight.”

“Ugh,” she says, rolling her eyes again. She crosses her arms with a huff. “They can _have_ it. Believe me, if I could give away my status and money right this moment I would. It’s disgusting.”

Kraglin stares. He wasn’t expecting this. “Whatcha mean?”

“My uncle and all his pompous friends, and most people I’ve met in my level of society – they just live the dream life and ignore what’s going on down below. This,” she says, gesturing around. “You. People that they could be helping lead more fulfilling lives.”

“And ya’d give yer money away where? To do what?”

“Charities, to help people better themselves. Keep children out of the slums, and put them in schools, good homes. Set homeless people up with jobs and in houses.”

“I grew up in the slums on Xandar,” Kraglin says quietly. “It would’a been nice to get a lil’ help, but we didn’t want handouts. We wanted to work fer what we got.”

“That’s what I’m talking about – training, coaching, stuff like that. But I’d want to be part of it, I would’nt want to just throw money at some charity blindly. I- I don’t know.” She sighs, and looks up at him. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about this.”

“I don’t mind,” Kraglin says, sitting down next to her. “Besides, this time is yers, ya can do whatcha want with it. If ya want to talk ‘bout this, then ya go right ahead.”

“Thanks. I just - my uncle just treats me like this little child, like some helpless little girl. But I have dreams, you know? There are things I want to do, things I want to see, outside my tiny circle of society.” She folds her arms, brows drawing down as she scowls. “He just tries to keep me in this little box, to keep me from doing anything on my own.” She sighs. “I guess he’s trying to keep me safe, I’m his only living relative, but sometimes I just feel – I feel so – ”

“Trapped?” Kraglin asks.

“Yes,” she says in surprise. “Yes, exactly.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out, shoulders relaxing. “Thank you so much, Kraglin.” She laughs embarrassedly. “I know these problems might seem like nothing, like just the whining of a spoiled little girl, and I’m sorry if it does. I know-”

“Hey, I don’t know yer life,” Kraglin interrupts. “They’re real problems to ya, and that’s good enough fer me. Y’ain’t gonna get no judgements from me, Ruby.”

She cocks her head at him, trapping him in her gaze. “You’re a surprising person,” she says, and extends her hand to shake his. “You know what? I’m glad those girls brought me here after all. Otherwise I might not have met you.” She smiles, and his heart patters in his chest. “You’re the first person who I think has ever really listened to what I have to say.”

“Glad to,” he says. “You seem like a real nice person, Ruby.” He glances at the holographic clock projected on the wall. “Oh, looks like yer time is up, a half hour’s gone.”

“Already?”

Kraglin laughs. “We can stay here longer, if ya want to keep talkin’.”

“No, I’d better go,” she sighs, and stands. “It was really nice meeting you. I hope we see each other again.”

“Feel free to stop by anytime, to watch, or if ya jus’ want to talk,” he says. “This was real nice.”

She gives him a bright, warm smile that reaches her eyes. “Thank you. Maybe I will.”

* * *

_“Kraglin. Kraglin come in.”_

Kraglin clicks his wrist com. “Kraglin here, go ahead Oblo.”

_“Hey, hotshot. Target’s been spotted heading towards the club. We’ve notified the manager.”_

“Shit. Okay, thanks for the heads up.”

He rented a room for a week above the club, but it’s only been a day since he met Ruby. And she’s coming back already? He slips on a blue casual suit – if she comes by, he’s going to tell her he’s just getting off his shift. He hides in the shadow of a stairwell until he sees Ruby just outside, then begins heading for the door, pretending to look at a small holopad as he walks.

“Damn.” He says loudly enough for her to hear, staring at it.

“Kraglin?”

He looks up, feigning a look of surprise. “Ruby?”

She stands there in a long sparkly tunic, leggings and high-heeled boots. The purple of her outfit brings out the green in her eyes. “Hello,” she says shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Whatcha doin’ here?”

“I – I came to see you.”

“Oh, sorry, Ruby. I just got off stage.”

“Oh, no,” she replies, blushing. “I mean, I came to see _you._ Just to you know, talk or – or I was going to ask if you…if you’d like to come to dinner with me.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah. Just…” She tucks her hair behind her ear again – a nervous habit, he realizes. “As a thank you for listening yesterday.”

“Aww, thanks. That’s real nice. But uh…I – I just saw the last a’ my money got sucked up by my rent.” He lifts the holopad briefly in explanation before sticking it in his jacket pocket. He gives a rueful laugh. “Housin’ ain’t cheap on Sarran. So, I appreciate the offer, Ruby, really, but I can’t.”

“No, please come. My treat.”

“I can’t let ya do that.”

“Yes, you can,” she says, and after a second of hesitation, comes to his side and slips her arm in his. “Come on.”

She takes him to what might be the fanciest restaurant he’s ever set foot in, and they have a delicious meal, but Kraglin is having a hard time concentrating on the food. He finds that he’s absorbed by every word that Ruby speaks.

As the week progresses, Kraglin sees Ruby nearly every day. He didn’t expect it to be this easy, and in some ways, he’s relieved it’s going so well.

But after their third meeting – he might even go as far as calling it a date – Kraglin realizes that Ruby is definitely not the target he’d been preparing for. She’s not the stuck up, spoiled, entitled little heiress he was expecting. She’s sweet, kind, and humble, and he genuinely is beginning to like her. A lot. An uneasy feeling starts stirring in his heart. The more he gets to know her, the more he doubts his ability to go through with the mission. The only problem is, how is he going to tell the Captain that?


	24. Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that long chapter is looooong. I could have broken it in two, but I'm trying to stay true to my outline. :)

"Cap'n? Is this a private channel?"

_"Yeah. Go ahead."_

Kraglin takes a deep breath. "I - I don't think I can go through with this mission, sir."

There's silence on the other end of the com.  _"Care to run that by me again, Kraglin?"_

A sweat breaks out on the back of Kraglin's neck. The Captain's voice is low and has an angry edge. "R-Ruby isn't what I expected. She's a nice girl, Cap'n."

 _"And?"_  The word comes out biting.

"And - and I don't feel right takin' advantage of her."

 _"Don’t_ feel _right? This girl makin' ya soft, issat it? Fillin' yer head with sentiment?”_ There’s what might be a scoffing noise on the other end of the line. “ _Kraglin, ya agreed to see this mission through. And now yer tellin' me ya can't do it?”_

There's more than just anger there now, there's danger in his voice. Kraglin swallows. He opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

 _"Well?"_ Yondu snarls.

"I'll do it," he replies quietly. "Sorry to bother ya, sir." _I can’t give the Cap’n a reason to doubt me. I’m sorry, Ruby._

_"Better not screw this up, boy."_

"Yessir." There's a harsh click on the other end of the line as the call is disconnected. Kraglin sighs, then jumps as his wrist vibrates again. "Kraglin here."

 _"We jus' got word that Ruby's headin' yer way,"_  the Captain's voice comes again. _"She's about eight blocks away. It's rainin'. Go outside, make yerself look as pathetic as possible, head her way so she picks ya up. Try to get her to take you back to her place. Do whatever it takes."_

Heart sinking, Kraglin nods. "Yes, Cap'n."

_"And Kraglin."_

"Sir?"

_"It's jus' a job. Remember that. Now git goin'."_

"Yes, Cap'n. Goin' dark." 

_"Copy."_

He exits the side of the building, and clambers down the fire escape. Yondu understated the weather; it's pouring buckets. The building next door has a drain spout that is overflowing, and he runs under it, immediately getting soaked. He yelps as the cold water runs down his back. Shaking his wet hair from his eyes, he walks quickly up the sidewalk, wrapping his wet jacket around him tightly and jamming his hands in his pockets.

After he's walked a couple blocks, he sees Ruby's vehicle approaching, but doesn't look up as it passes. He hears them stop behind him but keeps walking. 

"Miss Ruby!" the driver's voice shouts as he hears the clatter of heels. "Get back in the vehicle!"

"Kraglin!" Ruby's voice calls, and he turns.

Ruby is popping open an umbrella as she runs towards him. "Oh Kraglin," she says sadly. "I saw you and I couldn’t believe it. You poor dear. You're soaking wet. Come on, come inside.”

"Miss Ruby, what do you think you’re - oh, it's _you_." The driver raises his nose in the air as Kraglin approaches. 

Ruby slips her arm in Kraglin's and holds him tight. "Lettri, that snobbishness isn't becoming on you. Stop it at once. Please open the door.”

"Yes, miss," he says stiffly, and opens the vehicle door.

"I don't wanna make any trouble, Ruby," Kraglin says. "And I don't want to ruin your seats."

"It's fine. I'll get someone to –” she stops in mid-sentence. “ _I'll_  clean it up tomorrow. Go on. Thank you, Lettri."

"Yes, miss," he sighs. "Where to?"

"Take us home, please."

"Your uncle won't be pleased that you're bringing him with you."

"Uncle Revul is at the penthouse, not the manor, and he doesn't need to know, Lettri. And if he finds out, I'll suffer the consequences. You have nothing to do with this; it’s my decision and my responsibility.”

"Yes, miss," he says, and closes the door.

Ruby pulls a fur blanket off the seat and pulls it around Kraglin's shoulders as the vehicle begins to move. It's still warm - she must have been wrapped in it. He bends his head on pretense of wiping his face, and breathes in. It smells like her.

"Kraglin, what in the stars were you doing walking out in the rain like that? You must have been walking for hours, with how wet you are. Your apartment is in the other direction, isn’t it?”

"Yeah. I-I got evicted," he says.

"Oh no! Oh, Kraglin! I thought you paid your rent."

"I did." He shrugs. "They had a better offer or somethin’, I guess."

She grasps his hands, a fire sparking in her green eyes. "They can't do that! Tell me who did this, I'll make this right."

"No, no. It's okay, darlin’," he says, patting her hand. "Been thinkin' about maybe goin' somewhere else anyway. Can't afford to live in a place like this."

"You're leaving?" her voice comes out quiet.

"Don't have much choice," he says with a shrug.

"But...." She draws her hands back into her lap and hangs her head.

He looks over at her, loving the way the lights outside illuminate her hair and turn the strands blue, gold and red. Her eyes are lowered beneath their long lashes, her delicate mouth pulled down in a frown. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Don't be sorry," she says softly, raising her eyes again. "I know you have to do what's best for you. I'm - I'm just going to miss you. I've never known anyone like you before.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “This has been the best week of my life."

The words sting Kraglin's heart. "I'm gonna miss you too," he says, and realizes the words are perfect truth. It makes his heart sink lower. But it also makes her smile at him. She reaches up and tries to fix his wet hair, biting her lip as she does so. Damn if it doesn’t turn him on.

Soon, they're driving through an affluent neighborhood with large, ornate houses and gardens. They pass through a gate and up a long driveway lined with sculptures and pull into an open-air garage with several other vehicles parked inside. 

"Come on," Ruby says softly, getting out of the vehicle. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes." She walks up to the door and punches in a code - he makes sure it doesn't look like he's watching, but he memorizes the number. She takes him inside by the arm, ignoring the fact that he's dripping all over the floors. "Lettri, will you please find Kraglin some dry clothes? Unless you want him wearing mine," she adds with a smirk and a raised eyebrow as Lettri opens his mouth to protest.

"That will not be necessary, Miss,” Lettri says quickly. “I will have some garments delivered to the guest room shortly."

"You can deliver them up to my rooms."

Lettri's eyes widen. "Miss Ruby, I must-"

"Lettri," she says sternly, raising her chin, "That is an order."

With a glare at Kraglin, Lettri nods and bows. "Yes, miss."

"I'm sorry, Ruby," Kraglin says as she leads him up a grand, spiraling staircase. "I really don't want to get you in trouble."

"You're not," she says. "Honestly, my uncle would probably be relieved I'm behaving _like a normal young woman_ ," she says in a mimicking voice, with a slight roll of her eyes. She smiles back at him. "This way." She leads him up another stairway on the east side of the house, into a neat and surprisingly sparse but elegant set of rooms. "You can bathe in here," she says, opening the door to an expansive wash room. She crosses over to and large tub and begins to run the water. "A nice hot bath will do you good. And I'll have some drinks brought up for us." She begins to leave him when he catches her hand, and she turns to him in surprise.

"Ya don't have to do this fer me."

"I know," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I want to." She smiles up at him, and swiftly, she rises on her toes and kisses his cheek. When she pulls back, she’s blushing.

He can feel the heat rushing to his own face, and chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I'm gonna go get that bath," he stammers. He pauses in the doorway, turning back to her with a shy grin. "Ya don't wanna join me, do ya?" he asks, then swallows. _Good gods, did I really jus’ say that?_

Her flush darkens, and she throws her hands to her face with a giggling gasp. “Kraglin!”

He laughs and winks, closing the door between them.

A little while later, he sits soaking in the tub, running his hands through his unwashed hair.  _I have to get the information tonight. I have to figure out how to get to her uncle's penthouse, where he keeps his valuables._   _Gods, she looked so cute in that lil’ dress she had on. And she kissed me._ He shakes his head. _Focus, dammit, Kraglin! Focus. You gotta figure out how to get the information from her. Cap’n’s countin’ on -_ He sits up straight as there's a knock on the washroom door. "Yeah?" his voice comes out a little higher pitched than normal, and he wants to kick himself.

The door creaks open, and he sinks lower under the foam as Ruby pops her head in, cheeks blushing again. "Hi," she calls softly. "C-can I come in?"

"Change yer mind ‘bout the bath?" he teases.

She giggles and ducks her head shyly, curls falling around her shoulders. "I just came to bring you some dry clothes."

"Oh, thanks."

She enters, and he sees she's wearing a button-down pajama top and pants, covered by a robe. A locket which must have been hidden beneath her dress now sparkles around her neck. She puts the clothes on a chair nearby and picks up his wet things. "I'm just going to hang these up to dry over here," she says, throwing them over a towel bar. She turns back to him, cocking her head. "Did you wash your hair yet?"

"Uh- no. Didn't know what soap to use."

She smiles at him. "Would you like me to wash your hair for you?"

A blush creeps into his own cheeks before he can stop it. "Oh - ya, ya don't have to."

"Please?" Before he can stop her, she's removed her robe and rolled up her sleeves, lathering shampoo into her hands. Kraglin bites back a moan as her soft fingers gently massage the soap into his scalp. "Is this okay?" she asks softly.

"Yeah," he sighs, letting his body relax under her touch.

"Tilt your head back," she says, "And close your eyes so I don't get soap in them."

He does so, and sighs as he feels warm water wash over his head, rinsing the shampoo out. She repeats the process, and after it seems like she's done, he asks, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Not yet,” comes her soft reply.

He hears her moving around, and something that sounds like fabric shifting. He gasps as he feels her enter the water, and his eyes shoot open. She sinks hurriedly down into the tub so she's hidden by the foam, blushing all the way down her throat and up to the tips of her ears. She’s completely naked except for the locket around her neck. "R-Ruby?"

"You asked if I wanted to join you," she says, biting her lip. "I'm - I'm sorry," she says, eyes widening. She crosses her arms over her chest, hanging her head over them. She draws up her legs, so her knees appear above the foam. "I’m – I’m so embarrassed,” she murmurs. “I thought you were serious."

He swallows, breathing fast. He's flushed with heat, and it's not from the bathwater. What he’s feeling isn’t for the mission. It isn’t part of the job. He wants her, more than he’s wanted anything in his life.  _Now's your chance. Make your move._  He lets out a breath, and slides towards her, reaching down into the water to run his hand up her leg. She looks up, eyes wide. "I was fully serious," he whispers. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he presses his lips to hers. He hears her sharp intake of breath and pulls away. "Sorry, too fast?"

"N-no, I just wasn't ready," she says, blushing so vividly that her cheeks are nearly purple. She slides her hands over his shoulders, circling her arms around his neck. Kraglin's breath catches as he feels her naked chest press against his. "Please, don't stop."

"Ya got it, baby girl," he whispers, and taking her in his arms, kisses her deeply.

* * *

Hours later, Kraglin lies awake in Ruby's bed, lightly stroking her hair as she lies sleeping, draped across his chest. He sighs deeply, and stares at the fabric canopy draped above the bed. The fabric is deep blue and sparkles like it's filled with stars.  _I have to see this mission through. But what if..._ he bites his lip as his mind wanders. _What if I stay here? With Ruby?_ She wouldn't have to know who or what he really is. He thought he’d be a Ravager for life – he’s never entertained the idea of having a wife, or kids, or any of that, until now. He never dreamed it was even a possibility. He closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly.  _Git that outta yer head, Kraglin. Ya don't belong in a society like this, and ya sure as hell don't belong with someone sweet like Ruby. She deserves better than ya, especially after all ya’ve done. And besides...who would look after the Cap’n and Pete if yer gone?_  Opening his eyes again, he bends down and places a soft kiss on her head. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and lays his head back down on the pillow.

"For what?” comes her sleepy voice, and she shifts, rolling over on her stomach to face him. Her hair is bushy and a mess now, but he thinks she looks gorgeous.

"Fer...uh. Fer leavin'," he replies.

Her eyes lower, and she picks at a piece of fuzz on the bed sheet. "Well, it doesn't have to mean goodbye forever, does it?"

"No, I guess not."

"How are you going to get off the planet, if you don't have any money?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. I'll figure something out."

She huffs slightly and rises into a kneeling position, retrieving her robe which now lies at the foot of the bed. She disappears into the washroom to retrieve his pants, which she throws at him. "Put those on."

"Ruby," he says in a slight panic, "I'm sorry. What'd I say?"

"What? Nothing. I'm just a little frustrated that you won't ask for my help, so I'm going to give it to you anyway. Hurry up. Follow me and be quiet."

He slips his pants on and follows her to the door of her rooms, which she opens slightly. Peering out alongside her, he sees that the house is dark. She turns to him and places her finger to her lips, then takes his hand and leads him down the stairs. Instead of going back down the main staircase, however, she crosses to the opposite staircase on the west side and creeps up those. She stops suddenly, letting go of his hand. She lifts her robe slightly, and carefully steps over something. Peering closer, Kraglin sees it's a trip wire, nearly invisible against the floor pattern. He makes note of the location.

"Ruby," he whispers, following her lead, "Where are we goin'?"

She only places her finger to her lips again, and peers around the corner. She pulls back quickly. "Four, five, six, seven, eight," he hears her murmur under her breath. She pulls him alongside her, running bent double along the wall. In the corner, Kraglin sees a camera suspended, turning back in the direction where they had been. They dodge two more cameras, and at the end of the hall, there is a door with a keypad. She punches in an eight-digit code, which he memorizes, watching out of the corner of his eye. The door pops open, and she leads him inside a set of austere, cold-looking rooms. She goes through these and disappears inside a large closet.

He follows her inside, and sees she's just finishing punching in another code into a large, safe concealed behind a fake portion of wall at the back of the closet. _Revul’s fortune! It ain’t at the penthouse, it’s here at the manor!_ _The rumors about the penthouse and all its security must be a decoy._ He only catches the last two numbers of the combination. She opens the door and reaches inside. Then she closes the safe door. She sticks whatever is in her hands inside her robe pockets, and swiftly and carefully, they make their way back to Ruby's room.

She reaches into her pockets and hands him what looks like a thousand units and a rope of jewels.

"Ruby, I can't take this."

"Yes, you can. I'll tell my uncle I – I went _shopping_ or something stupid if he notices it’s gone, and those jewels were my mother's, so they're mine to give. That should give you more than enough to get off the planet and find some lodgings and work. I know you don't like handouts," she adds as he opens his mouth, "So just think of it as a loan. You can pay me back another time when you have the means."

His throat is tight, and he can't get out the words, so he just nods.

She reaches up and pulls his face towards hers, and he leans into her kiss. Throwing the units and jewels onto her bedside table, he pulls her back onto the bed.

* * *

"Thanks for everything, Ruby. That sofa was real comfy," he says so Lettri can hear.

"I'm glad," she replies with a blushing smile. "I'll walk you out to the gate."

"The grounds are muddy, Miss Ruby," Lettri objects.

"Then I'll wash my shoes when I return." She pushes out the front door, holding Kraglin's hand. They walk in silence until they reach the gate.

"So, I guess this is goodbye," he says.

"Hopefully it’s a see-you-later," she says, but her voice breaks, and tears roll down her cheeks. “Are you sure I can’t give you a ride somewhere?”

“You’ve done more than enough, Ruby.” He takes her face in his hands and rubs her tears away, then places a soft kiss against her lips.

"I'm so glad I met you, Kraglin," she says as they break apart. "And I'm thankful uncle’s holiday on Xandar was rescheduled for next week, otherwise we wouldn’t have had the time together that we did."

"Well, who knows. Maybe I'll see you on Xandar sometime."

"I hope so," she replies, and he turns to walk through the gate. She grabs his hand. "Wait, wait." He turns to see her reaching around her neck, and she unhooks the locket. "Take this. Please. To remember me." She clasps it around his neck and kisses his cheek. "Goodbye, Kraglin. I really hope we meet again. And if we don't –” she chokes on her tears but manages, “Well, I'll never forget you."

"I'll never forget you either, Ruby," he says sadly, and with one last kiss, he leaves. He doesn't look back. He doesn't want her to see the tears in his eyes.

* * *

"Yer stayin' outta this one."

 _"What?"_  Kraglin exclaims.

It’s four days later, and they’re preparing to hit the manor. "I  _said_ , yer stayin' outta this one," Yondu repeats as he continues down the hall. "Yer too close to it."

Kraglin stops in the hallway and swallows hard. "No, sir."

Yondu stops too and turns slowly. "What was that?"

"I said no. I ain’t sittin' this one out, sir." He plants his feet, clenching his hands to hide their trembling as Yondu stalks back towards him, his pace slow and heavy. "I know the layout a' the place, the timing a' the cameras, and I got all the codes memorized," he says. He swallows as Yondu gets right up in his personal space. "Th-There’s no one else ya can trust to git it done."

Yondu narrows his eyes. "That so."

"Yessir, and Ru- the girl's not gonna be there anyway," he says. "So I won't be distracted. We’ll clean 'em out before anybody can raise the alarm."

Yondu just stands there, and even though Kraglin is taller, the Captain seems to loom over him. "Ya sure got a scrote, boy, standin’ up to me," he says. After a moment of studying Kraglin in silence, Yondu nods. "Fine. But ya better not mess this up, Kraglin. If them units and jewels she gave ya was any indication of what else is in that safe, there’s too much at stake here."

"Have I let ya down before, Cap'n?"

Yondu scoffs, staring down at his boots momentarily. He shakes his head before looking up into Kraglin's face. "No, no ya haven't." He claps him on the shoulder and heads up to the control room where the team is being briefed on the mission.

Kraglin sighs in relief and follows.

* * *

Under cover of night, Kraglin, Yondu and their small team of Ravagers disembark from their cloaked M-ships and onto the grounds of the Rul manor. They’re dressed in their normal Ravager leathers, but coats, jackets, dusters and anything that might snag or trail behind have been left on the ship. Kraglin takes lead on the team inside; Yondu and his team keep watch around the perimeter, hidden behind sculptures and brush.

Kraglin takes a deep breath upon entering the open-air garage, and immediately goes to the door. He closes his eyes for a moment, remembering the code Ruby had used. _4-2-2-7-4,_ he repeats in his mind as he punches in the code. The light turns blue, and the door clicks open. He slips inside, and Taserface, Oblo and a couple other Ravagers follow him inside. They’re all silent, listening, waiting, but they hear nothing, and follow Kraglin upstairs.

He glances towards Ruby’s rooms, but they’re still and dark. He leads the Ravagers to the west wing, pointing out the trip wire. Kraglin makes it past the cameras with Oblo, and types in the code to the door to Revul’s rooms. Oblo works on remotely disabling the cameras so the rest of the team can get in while Kraglin cracks the safe.

It takes him a little longer than expected to figure out the other digits to open the safe, but he finally gets in. He presses a button on his wrist com. “Cap’n, this is Kraglin. We’re in, cameras are disabled. Gonna get the team in place and start baggin’ it up.”

_“Copy. All quiet out here but hurry it along. We’re already behind schedule.”_

“Yessir.”

“Y’all get it bagged up, I’ll keep watch down the stairs,” Kraglin says.

* * *

Kraglin fidgets at the bottom of the stairs. Every little creak of the house sets him on edge. His eyes keep straying up to Ruby’s wing, remembering her kisses, the sparkle in her eyes and the sound of her laugh. He keeps hearing her voice in his mind; her conversations with him replay over and over. He shakes his head. _Ya gotta focus. It’s jus’ a job. Yer never gonna see her again. Ya gotta keep yer head in-_

A sudden scream of “Ravagers! Lettri, there are Ravagers-” attracts his attention.

He whirls on his heel, his heart turning to water in his chest. _"Ruby?"_ He dashes up the stairs three at a time. He hears her muffled voice coming from the west wing, and tears into the rooms. Ruby is there, dressed in a white nightgown, held fast in Taserface’s arms. He has a hand clamped over her mouth and he's laughing. "Don't struggle, sweetheart," he chuckles, giving her a rough kiss on the cheek. "It'll only make this more difficult."

"Get yer damn hands off her!" Kraglin roars, unsheathing the knife from his back and holding it up to Taserface's throat. The Ravager freezes but makes no move to put her down. "I said, hands off!  _Now!"_

Taserface releases her and backs up, hands raised.

Ruby throws herself into Kraglin’s arms, and he catches her, sheathing the knife. "Kraglin! Hurry, we have to-" As she yanks at his arm, her eyes fall over his maroon leathers and the flame on his shoulder. "K-Kraglin, why are you dressed like a Ravager?"

Some of the Ravagers to his right begin to laugh, but one glare from him, and they fall immediately silent.

"You  _are_  a Ravager," she realizes, her face falling. She pushes away from him, tears gathering in her eyes. Her brows draw down angrily, her lip trembles. "You _lied_ to me! You - you  _bastard!"_  He knows the slap is coming, and he lets it fall; he doesn't even try to stop it. She's stronger than she appears, and the impact actually makes him stagger back a step. But he deserves it.

There's a few  _oohs_  from his team, and he glares at them again. "Ain't payin' ya to watch," he snaps. "Git back to it. Taserface, ya go guard downstairs. Ya see anyone, just lock 'em in a closet or somethin'. Ya hurt a single hair on one a' their heads and I'll slit yer damn throat, ya understand?"

"Yes sir," he rumbles, and leaves the room.

"Ya come here," Kraglin says, seizing Ruby's arm. She digs her feet in, hooking her other arm around the corner of a doorway. "Stop it, Ruby. Come here." He yanks a little harder, just short of hurting her.

She struggles against his grasp. "No! Get your hands off me!"

"Dammit, Ruby!" he shouts, releasing her. She runs from him, but he catches up quickly and grabbing her, throws her over his shoulder. He storms out of the room and down the west stairs, then up the east stairs to her wing. She pounds his back and kicks her legs; he wraps an arm about her knees to keep her still. "Stop it," he snaps, "I don't wanna drop ya."

"What do you care?" she shouts, and his heart twists as he hears she's crying. 

As they reach her rooms, he gently puts her on her feet, and she pushes against him again. "You're just a no good lying-" She raises a hand to slap him again, and this time he catches her hand and pulls her close.

"Ruby, stop and listen to me fer a minute-"

"Give me one good reason why!" she says, still struggling.

"Because -" His throat is tight. "Because I care about ya, dammit!"

"No, you don't!"

He seizes her shoulders and gives her a gentle shake. "Yes, I  _do.”_ His voice breaks, and he and can't stop a tear from trickling down his cheek. 

She stills in his arms, staring up into his face. 

"Ya started out as just a target, just a mission, but I started to really care about ya. Ya don't know how much I wanted to call the job off. I tried, but I couldn't." He hangs his head. "...I didn't know ya'd be here tonight."

"Uncle Revul had another business trip come up," she explains softly.  "Why, Kraglin? Why did you do this?"

"It was jus' supposed to be a job,” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought ya were gonna be this spoiled rotten lil' rich girl, and it was gonna be easy, and no need to feel bad. But then ya had to be so damn sweet," he says, voice breaking. "How could I _not_ care about ya?"

"So...everything you said that night? Making love to me? Was that real?"

He nods, lifting his gaze just long enough to meet her eyes. "Yeah, that was all real."

She bites her lip as more tears course down her cheeks.

 _"Kraglin! Where you at, boy?"_  Yondu's voice comes tearing through his com.

"East wing, Cap," he replies, lifting his wrist nearer to his mouth. "We'd better wrap up here, household knows we're here – ain’t on holiday after all, but the uncle’s gone. I don't think they've notified the Corps yet, but it's just a matter a' time before someone gets that chance."

_"Shit. I'm packin' up my team."_

"I'll tell my team to do the same, sir."

_"They get everything?"_

"Just about, sir."

_"It's gonna have to be good enough. Tell 'em to clear out."_

"Aye, Cap'n." He clicks the com off and stares at Ruby. "I'm sorry, Ruby. I'm so sorry fer how I treated ya. If I could'a spared ya the pain, I would've." He zips his jumpsuit down slightly and reaching around his neck, unclasp the locket hanging there. He presses it into her hand.

She stares down at it for a few moments. “Will I ever see you again?” she asks. When she raises her head, all the fear and resentment is gone form her face. The tears in her eyes are not angry ones.

He tears his gaze away from hers to study his boots and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” She sniffles loudly, and he forces himself to look up at her again. “I wish-” he begins. _I wish things were different. I wish I could stay. But the Cap’n needs me. Peter needs me. I’m the First Mate, I got responsibilities. I can’t jus’ leave._ “I don’t think so,” he repeats softly, turning his head away.

He feels her fingers brush against his neck, and the still-warm chain rests against his throat. “Keep it, to remember me by.”

He lets out a wet little laugh, biting back the noise before he starts to cry. “Couldn’t forget ya if I tried,” he croaks. “Take care a’ yerself, Ruby.”

She leans forward and places her lips against his, softly. “Goodbye, Kraglin.”

"Goodbye Ruby." With a heart that feels like it's shattering in a million pieces, he turns away.

* * *

They disembark their M-ships upon their return to the _Eclector_. Kraglin carries a crate to one of the storage hangars to be inventoried by Horuz before it's taken to the ship’s safe. Yondu falls into step beside him. "Good work, Krags," he says. "Ya pulled it off."

"Cap'n," he says quietly. "Ya said if I did it proper, ya'd give me anythin' I wanted."

Yondu looks sidelong at him and laughs. "Yer right, I did say that. Well, whatcha want, boy? First pick a' the loot?"

"No sir. I just - I don't want to be assigned to a mission like this again. I'll deceive anybody any way ya like otherwise, but I don't want to woo anybody again."

Yondu stops in mid-stride. "What? Why the hell not?"

"I have my reasons, Cap'n," he says softly. "Please."

Yondu opens his mouth to argue, then closes it and nods. "Fine. Won’t put ya on no more seducin' missions. Your loss.”

* * *

Kraglin refuses the offer to celebrate with the crew planetside, on the pretense of feeling ill. Yondu gives him a look but dismisses him. Kraglin lies in his bed, hours later, staring at the ceiling, holding Ruby’s locket near his heart. 

There's a soft click at his door, and it opens. He reaches under his pillow for the blaster he keeps there, aiming it at the doorway.

"Hey Kragl- _whoa!_ Shit, it's me! Don’t shoot!”

"Dammit, Peter," Kraglin sighs, uncocking the weapon and putting it back in its resting place. Kraglin lets his head drop back on to the pillow and places a hand over his eyes.

There’s the sound of the teen stumbling into the room, and the bed creaks harshly as he throws his weight against it. "Feeling any better?" comes the tentative question after a half moment of silence.

"No." He removes his hand and looks up into Peter's face, lifting himself up onto his elbows. His face is flushed pink, his nose bright and eyes bleary. He’s been drinking. He glances at his door with a raised eyebrow. "My door was locked. How did ya get in here?"

Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "It's not like it's difficult to hack."

Kraglin narrows his eyes. "Really. Do ya know anything 'bout the Orloni that got in my room last month?"

Peter goes wide-eyed and shakes his head. "Nope."

Kraglin studies the teen's eyes but can't find a trace of a lie. Either that, or he's just too tired. He shakes his head and drops back onto the bed.

"Geez, you really are out of it," Peter says.

"What do you want, Pete?" Kraglin groans.

"I brought a drink," he says, holding up a liquor bottle. "Aarkonian whiskey, it's still warm." He grins and wiggles the bottle. "Interested?"

"I thought the Cap'n said ya can drink, but only beer."

"Oh, come on," Peter says, rolling his eyes. "You think  _Yondu_  always follows the rules?"

"Gimme that bottle." He takes it from Peter's offered hand and takes a long swig. It burns going down at first but gives way to a pleasant warmth. Kraglin scoots to one side of the bed and nods to the empty space. "Well, go on. Have a seat." Peter flops down on the bed beside him. "Why did you really come up here?"

"I dunno," Peter says with a shrug. "What happened with the mission? Was she pretty?"

Kraglin swipes the bottle and takes another drink before handing it back. "She was gorgeous."

"Did you...?"

"Ain't none of yer damn business." he says gruffly. His hand tightens around the locket.

"Sorry, geez."

They're silent for several minutes, passing the bottle back and forth, until Kraglin notices Peter watching him. "What, Pete?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why?"

"You just seem kinda..." he shrugs. "Kinda sad I guess."

"It wasn't an easy mission," Kraglin admits. He’s already buzzed and can’t stop the next sentence from escaping his mouth. "I started fallin' fer her."

Peter rolls over on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. "Whoa, really?"

"If I could pick any girl in the whole galaxy, she might have been it," he says softly. "She wasn't anything like I expected. Th' galaxy could use more people like Ruby in it." He holds up the locket and lets it dangle in front of his face, where it spins and sparkles in the light of his bedside lamp.


	25. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time hops and angst incoming!

The older Peter grows, the wider his independent streak becomes. He's constantly getting in trouble, and it becomes clear to Kraglin that, even though Yondu always dishes out punishment, he doesn't always enforce it. When Peter is young, it's a swat on the bottom or a cuff upside the head. As he grows, it becomes chores. And Peter begins to shirk these chores. When he's in his late teens, he's restricted to the ship and banned from going planetside.

But it doesn't seem to stop him, and it drives Kraglin insane.

Today for instance, they're visiting a small planet after the heist they pulled yesterday. A heist which Quill nearly cost them when he tried to boost one of the target's vehicles and triggered an alarm. Yondu confined the 18-year-old to quarters for three weeks. No missions, no planetside ventures.

And yet, here he is, lounging at the bar talking to a pretty Arcturan girl. She runs her hand over his shoulders as she whispers something in his ear and walks away. He bends backwards in his seat to get a look at her as she retreats.

Kraglin marches towards the younger man, and he seizes his arm. Peter whirls around, hand straying towards his blaster. Once he sees it’s the First Mate, he relaxes and laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, Krags, you scared the crap outta me.”

“What’re ya doin’ off the ship? Weren’t ya confined to quarters?”

Peter chuckles and slaps Kraglin’s shoulder. “Technically, yes. But Yondu doesn’t need to know I’m here, does he?”

Kraglin’s jaw tightens slightly. “Ya better head back before he sees ya.”

“Oh, come on, man. You’re too uptight all the time! Chill out. He’s brokering with that Danan guy – it’s going to take at _least_ two hours. You know how slow that old geezer is. I thought I was gonna die when Yondu dragged me in there with him last time.”

“Dawran.”

“Huh?”

“Yondu’s dealin’ with Dawran this time, not Danan.”

Peter straightens up. “How long does that usually take?”

Kraglin watches as the door opens and Yondu sidles in. “Well, seein’ as the Cap’n jus’ walked in, I’d say not long. Yer in deep shit now.” The words come out with no small amount of satisfaction.

Yondu turns and spots the both of them.

“I’d run,” Kraglin says, settling in a seat a couple away from the younger man.

“Yondu,” Peter says smoothly as the Centaurian approaches. That’s another thing. It’s never _Captain_ , never _Sir_. Always just Yondu, like they’re buddies. And Yondu rarely bothers to correct him. It was cute when Peter was little, but now it just grates on Kraglin’s nerves.

“Quill,” Yondu replies, one of his sharper teeth glinting in the low light. “Mind tellin’ me what the _hell_ yer doin’ down here?”

Peter gives Yondu his most charming smile and shrugs. "Oh, you know. Just needed a little change of scenery." He takes a sip of his drink and sets it down again with a confident _thunk_.

Kraglin just stares. If he had flippantly disregarded the Captain's orders like that, he'd be publicly shamed and possibly beaten in front of the crew. This punishment only happened to him once, and once was all it took. He'd taken the blame for something Quill had done to cost them an entire mission, to protect the younger man from Yondu's wrath. Yondu had beaten his First Mate in front of the entire crew, so hard that he'd blacked out. He'd taken it without protest - someone had to answer for the mistake. The worst part of the beating was not the pain, nor the embarrassment. Yondu is not stupid, and he must have known that it wasn't really Kraglin's fault that the mission had gone south. That hurt most.

Needless to say, Kraglin did not take the fall for Quill again. Now he sits, silently fuming as Peter smiles innocently at Yondu, and the Captain smiles proudly back - at least before yanking down on the Terran's ear so hard he nearly rips it off, marching him out the door, yelling about feeding him to the crew. Kraglin swipes Peter's drink and finishes it with a satisfied smirk.

* * *

Peter is now nineteen. His hair is shiny and curly, he's muscular and tall – taller than Kraglin, much to the First Mate’s chagrin - and cocky as _hell_.

"Oh yeah?" he's saying to Yondu as Kraglin sits down next to him at a little dingy café, "Okay, I'll make you a bet, old man."

The Captain's eyes glitter over his glass. "Careful, boy."

"Yeah, yeah. I bet you can't seduce that girl over there."

Kraglin and Yondu both look over to see a pretty Krylorian girl in a skin-tight dress perched on a stool at the bar. 

"If you lose," Peter continues, "I get your cut from next week's mission."

"And if I win?"

Peter snorts and rolls his eyes. "If you win - and that's a big  _if_  - I'll -  I dunno. Hell, I'll bring you breakfast in bed every morning for a month."

"How 'bout yer on toilet duty for a month."

"Yeah, sure whatever," Peter says with a smirk. "How about it, old man?" He extends his hand. 

Yondu grasps it and squeezes, not gently. "That’s _Cap’n_ to ya, boy. Ya got a deal," he says with a shark's smile.

He disappears from Peter's side, and Peter laughs as he orders another drink. "Gonna buy another piece of that stereo for the  _Milano_  with Yondu's share."

Kraglin is silent, smiling as he sips at his own drink. He's not going to say anything, and it's going to drive Peter crazy.

"It's almost done, you know,” Peter continues. “I just have a few more pieces that are really hard to find. There's that little junk shop on Byrmal where that dude collects Terran stuff, though. I think I might have what I'm looking for. Problem is, he's not cheap."

Kraglin just nods.

Peter shifts in his seat. "Yeah, it's gonna be awesome when it’s all finished. This is gonna be no sweat, Yondu could never pull this off."

Kraglin offers a shrug of his shoulder.

"Okay, what?" Peter asks, rounding on him.

"Oh, nothin'."

"Krags, what?"

"Jus' think yer underestimatin' the Cap'n, that's all."

Peter snorts. "You always take his side," he says with shove against Kraglin's shoulder. "He's old and ugly. No girl in her right mind is going to fall for someone like that."

"Huh. She must be insane, then."

Peter blinks. "What? What do you mean?"

Kraglin nods over Peter's shoulder. The younger man whirls in his seat. 

Yondu is seated next to the Krylorian, who is blushing a deep red and giggling. Yondu is speaking softly, and as Peter watches, he tucks a dark pink curl behind her ear. She covers her mouth as she giggles harder, and Yondu grins. 

Peter gapes.  _"What?"_  he splutters. His mouth drops as Yondu gets up from his seat and holds a hand out to the Krylorian girl. She slips a dainty hand in his, and he leads her towards the exit, passing by Peter on his way. Just as he passes, he leans over and says, "I’ll have that toilet brush ready fer ya." With a cackle, he slings an arm around the girl’s waist and saunters out of the bar.

This incident is just the first of many bets, tricks, pranks, arguments and fights that Yondu and Peter get into over the next five years.

* * *

Kraglin sips his drink at the outdoor bar, kicking the red dust of the ground off his boots. Yondu banished Quill to organize what has been dubbed the _darklands_ by the crew - the bowels of the ship, where all the odds and ends, scraps and the like are tossed without any regard for what goes where. It has at least fifteen years of accumulation at this point, and everything is heaped in haphazard, towering piles. It’s everyone’s least favorite job, which is why it’s gone unaddressed for so long.

Kraglin believes Quill is getting off extremely easy. Although, Yondu really did threaten to kill the Terran this time – they had their nastiest fight yet, as a result of Peter's breaking into the Captain's quarters while he was planetside and having sex in Yondu's bed with a Aakon girl. Kraglin was planetside with the Captain when this happened, and they finished the mission earlier than expected. Yondu retired to his room and raised hell, chasing a barely-clothed Quill through the ship with his arrow.

 _Yep, got off easy._ The Captain would have unquestionably murdered anyone else – although no one else would have had the audacity to do such a thing in the first place.

There's a grunt behind Kraglin, and he doesn't have to turn to know that Yondu has seated himself by his side. "Anythin' good?" the Captain asks as he hails down a bartender.

Kraglin lifts his glass, which has a clear alcohol in it. "The Rhonne ain't bad. Ain't too good, but ain't bad," He takes another drink and turns to the him.

Yondu nods, and there's something in the movement that causes Kraglin to shift uncomfortably. There it is again, in the slight tremble as Yondu takes his glass from the barkeep.

Kraglin spins in his chair so he's completely shoulder to shoulder with his Captain. "Everythin' all right, Cap?"

Yondu takes a long, deep drink before answering, and his eyes are darting all around. "I dunno," he answers quietly. "Have a weird feelin'. Keep yer wits 'bout ya."

"Aye, sir."

Yondu downs his drink, and he's starting on another when Kraglin gets a chill down his spine. He straightens, spins slowly in his chair, eyeing the horizon and their surroundings with what he hopes is a nonchalant air. He doesn't see anything out of the ordinary - the crew is acting normally, as are the passersby. Then his eyes fall on a doorway across the street. There's a figure there, and although they are mostly hidden by shadow, he glimpses blue skin peeking out from a gap in their hood. It's not the same deep blue as the Captain.  _Kree_ , he realizes, as he lifts the cup to his lips again. He swivels in his chair, flagging down the bartender. 

"I think there's a Kree in the doorway across the street," he murmurs to the Captain.

" _Shit_ , I knew it." Yondu mutters. He gnaws his lip. "Git Scrote, he's over there. See if he can spy a lil' on him, see if he's up to anythin'."

"Yessir. Hey Scrote!" Kraglin calls.

The man belches and gets up from his seat to walk over to the First Mate. "Kraglin?"

"Don't look around," Kraglin says pointedly, pushing over his glass. "Just take a drink a' this, smile."

Scrote, who's used to being sent on spy missions, takes the glass with a smile and drinks. He holds out the cup, nodding at it as if in approval of its taste. "What's the target?"

"Across the street, in the doorway" Kraglin says, also smiling. "We think it might be a Kree. See if ya can find out what he's up to."

"Aye, sir."

Kraglin reaches over and slaps his shoulder as if in comradery; Scrote does the same with a smile, a tip of the glass, and continues on his way. 

To Kraglin's dismay, he returns a few minutes later. "There's no one there."

"Shit," Kraglin hisses, turning slightly in his seat. Sure enough, the doorway is empty. "Okay. Jus' keep an eye out.”

Scrote nods and returns to his original spot.

Kraglin scans the area again and is about to turn back to Yondu when there's a loud cry of pain nearby. The First Mate vaults out of his seat. Yondu does the same, and they look at one another. _"Quill?"_

There's a murderous flash in Yondu's eyes, and he takes off running in the direction of the sound. It's all Kraglin can do to keep pace. Though Yondu is older and shorter, the Captain has a stamina that his crew has a hard time keeping up with.  _He was a battle slave under the Kree for 20 years,_  he remembers a drunken Tullk telling him once.  _20 years._  The number rolls around in Kraglin's head as he follows the Captain.

The yells are interspersed with loud swearing, and as they grow closer, they hear fists on flesh. There's the crackling sound of a blaster, and Peter screams. They slide to a halt at the next intersection, where four Kree are nursing wounds and bruises. The two Kree that are standing are hovering over Peter, who's down and clutching his arm. Blood runs over his fingers and drips onto the ground, dying the earth an even darker shade of red. The standing Kree jerk their heads up at Yondu's approach, and the shorter of the two darts forward to grab Peter, flicking out a blade attached to a mechanism on his arm and sliding it under the Terran’s chin. "Not another step, or he dies." 

Yondu halts in his tracks. "Let him go, or I swear to all the gods I'll-"

"Perhaps we can make a bargain," the Kree interrupts. Yondu narrows his eyes. Upon closer study of the Kree's face, he realizes that this must be one of the aristocracy - parts of his face, especially around his eyes, are smeared with a paler light blue powder, a mark of high social rank. "You are Yondu Udonta, correct?"

"Yes," he answers. "What the hell d'ya want?"

The Kree laughs lightly. "Why,  _you_  of course. We've observed this boy in your crew for some time, and he seems important to you. If that's true-"

Peter snorts. "It's not," he interjects. 

The Kree seems slightly startled and looks down at him. "Pardon?"

"I'm not important," Peter says with a roll of his eyes. "You're wasting your time if you think Yondu's going to--"

"Shut up, Quill," Yondu snaps. "Yer jus' gonna make it worse."

"See what I have to put up with?" Peter says, gesturing to the Captain.

"Pete," Kraglin warns. "These are Kree, they mean business, so I'd shut it if I were you."

"Oh, shut up Kraglin," Peter cries angrily. "I know what they are! And if you think-" he makes a gagging sound as the Kree presses the knife deeper into his skin. A small rivulet of blood trickles down his throat.

"Stop!" Yondu shouts. "He ain't done nothin'. Jus - let him go and maybe I'll let ya live."

"Told ya he wouldn't-" Peter croaks, then yelps as the Kree grips his hair, hard.

"That's enough out of you. What'll it be, Udonta? Return to your masters, or I will slit this boy's throat and let his blood warm my hands."

"Fine, fine." Yondu replies through gritted teeth, holding up his hands. He's about to purse his lips when Kraglin seizes the shoulder of his duster. 

"Cap'n," he hisses in warning. 

Yondu glances behind them and sees there are five more Kree behind him. "Shit." He can't make a move now, it's too risky. While he's taking out the Kree holding Peter, one of them behind could get the drop on him, or worse, Kraglin.

"The arrow," the lead Kree says. "Get it away from him."

One of the Kree behind him comes up on his right side and slips the arrow from its holster, retreating quickly to his leader. "Lord Garrus," he says, offering the arrow. Garrus plucks it from his hand, releasing his grip on Peter's hair, but brings the blade up even further, so Peter breathes in sharply as the edge scraps against his throat. "I’ve only seen recordings of this amusing little gadget. Think of all the enemies you will destroy for us with this," he says, studying it. He looks to Yondu with a smirk on his lips. "Bind him." he snaps.

Yondu gasps as he feels a noose slip over his head. He jabs his hand between the rope and his throat, and it cuts into his fingers as it tightens. He gags. His right arm is bent behind his back, and he's forced face-first into the dirt. He can hear Kraglin screaming for him and turns his head just enough to see the First Mate being detained by two Kree. They're having a hard time keeping a hold of him.

Kraglin watches, still fighting to get free, as Garrus shoves Peter into the arms of another Kree. "Take him away.”

"Wh-what?" Peter shouts, struggling against the Kree holding him. “Hey! Asshole! Let me go!”

“He's attractive,” Garrus continues. “Someone will pay well to have him in their bed."

Another Kree comes along side and secures Peter’s other arm. The Terran’s eyes are wide and panicked. “Let me go!”

"No!" The word comes strangled and hoarse from Yondu's mouth.  _"Quill!"_

"Oh, you didn't really think I was going to trade him for you, did you? Oh no, not when I could have the whole set." Garrus steps closer, twirling the arrow in his fingers. "And this is Kraglin Obfonteri, correct?" he says, sliding the arrow under Kraglin's chin to lift his gaze. "You have quite a bounty on your head from the Corps." He chuckles darkly. "Of course, I hear there's an even greater reward if I return you to the Skrulls."

"Over m'dead body!”

"Luckily, they just changed that specification. Alive _or_ dead, I hear." Garrus grins at him cruelly. "Perhaps I'll kill you in front of your Captain, so he knows he's failed you. Yes, that's a lovely idea. Bring him here," Garrus beckons to the Kree holding Kraglin, and they drag him forward. "I'll even kill you with his arrow. Wouldn't that be-" he doesn't finish his sentence. He's interrupted by a flash of bright light, and a sharp crack like breaking glass. Blood pours out of his mouth, a hole sizzling in the side of his head. As he goes limp, there are more crackling blaster shots, and the Kree fall dead all around them. 

As Kraglin helps the noose off Yondu, he looks in the direction from whence the shots came, expecting to see one of their crew, perhaps Brahl or Taserface, who are some of their best shots. All he glimpses is a head of dark hair and a flash of green leather disappearing behind a window sill on an upper floor of a nearby building. He doesn't have time to dwell on it. As soon as Yondu is free, he's whistling the most ferocious, piercing note Kraglin has ever heard. The arrow tears itself from underneath Garrus' dead body and zooms after Peter. "They're loading him onto a ship!" Yondu cries, racing after the arrow.

Kraglin follows, drawing his blaster.

The ship is in mid-air when they reach it, but the gangplank is still halfway open. Peter is fighting against the Kree holding him. He spots Yondu and reaches a hand towards him. "Yondu, help! Let go of me!" Peter rears back his fist and lands a powerful punch in the jaw of the Kree holding him; he tumbles out over the gangplank. He catches Peter's ankle on the way down, and the Terran tumbles after him. 

The ship is now fifty feet in the air, Peter is clutching the hydraulic pistons responsible for opening the gangplank, and the Kree is clutching Peter's leg, holding on for dear life.

“Hold on, boy!” Yondu yells, and whistles. The arrow drives through the Kree’s hand, severing it at the wrist, and the Kree falls, screaming, to the ground below.

“What’s goin’ on?” Tullk comes running up, Oblo, Brahl and Horuz at his heels. “Fekkin’ hell,” he says upon seeing Peter. The ship just keeps rising.

Kraglin looks at them and his eyes widen. “Horuz! Horuz, yer jet boots. Give ‘em t’me!”

Tullk hurriedly helps Horuz slip them off, and Kraglin pulls them on over his own boots, clicking them into place. They’re loose, not meant for his smaller feet, but they’ll have to do. He’s not letting the Kree take Peter. He runs forward a few paces until he’s clear of the group and activates the boots with a tap of his heel. His ascent begins unsteadily – he hates jet boots, he always has, and prefers the safety and stability of ships. If Xandarians had been meant to fly without vehicles, they would have been born with wings.

But he tucks his knees together slightly, squares his shoulders and lays his arms to his sides, and he takes off like an arrow towards the Kree ship. He grips the still-open gangplank. “Pete! Pete, gimme yer hand!”

Peter shakes his head, clinging to the pistons, trying to get a leg aboard the ship. “I’m gonna fall, Krags!”

He’s right. Peter is pale, tired, and injured - the arm of his shirt is soaked with blood, his hands slippery with it – his grip is failing. Gripping the edge of the gangplank as guidance, Kraglin steers himself towards the younger man and clenches a hand around his belt, pulling upward. If they can’t get off the ship, they’re going to have to go inside it. It’s just a little puddle jumper, used to get between motherships and not much else – if they can take down the pilot, they can commandeer the ship and land it safely.

He gets inside the ship, deactivates the jet boots, and plants his feet. He’s almost got Peter onboard when there’s a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns – and receives a harsh blow to the face. He feels himself fall, roll over the edge of the gangplank – and then there’s nothing holding him. There’s just open space, the wind roaring in his ears as he turns head over feet, tumbling down. The ground is speeding towards him. He can’t breathe.

Panicked, he activates kicks his heel against his opposite foot to activate the jet boots again, but he’s not upright. The propulsion drives him faster towards the red earth. With a yell, he forces his body right side up – just in time. The toe of one boot touches the ground before he’s catapulted up again. He grits his teeth and pulls the blaster out of the holster at his thigh. _Damn flarkin’ Kree!_

He overshoots the ship, but the Kree that attacked him is still struggling to remove Peter from the gangplank pistons, and he aims his blaster. One shot, and the Kree falls. He lands back on the ship, and gripping Peter’s blood-slicked hands, pulls him aboard. He hurls the dead Kree over the side and slams the button down to close the gangplank.

He wants to collapse after it’s safely closed, calm his furiously-beating heart, but they’re not done. “Stay here,” he hisses at Quill, and he charges into the ship. He only has to fire twice – the pilot doesn’t die on the first shot. He gains control of the ship, turns it around, and lands it.

Only then does he allow himself to take a breath, just for a second. He opens the gangplank again, and walks Quill out. Yondu and the rest are waiting for them, blasters raised, just in case.

“Ya hurt, son?” the Captain asks.

Kraglin’s about to answer, when he realizes that Yondu is not talking to him, but Peter. He walks away without a word, removing the jet boots and shoving them into Horuz’s hands.

“All right, wee man?” Tullk asks, clapping his shoulders. “Fek me, yeh did me a scare, fallin’ out a’ the sky like that.”

He hears Yondu yelling at Quill, but he’s coming to realize it’s all for show. He sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”


	26. Never the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get into the real angsty stuff, I wanted to give a shout out to Molli3, who has an *amazing* fic out there called "Growin' up Guardian" - it focuses on Peter's upbringing as a Ravager, and his relationships with Yondu and Kraglin. It's amazing, thought-provoking, original and also adorable. I love it to bits, so y'all should go read it! http://archiveofourown.org/works/11777568/chapters/26554968

Today finds Kraglin frantically searching seedy back alley bars, drug dens, and smuggler’s storehouses for Peter. The younger man said he had a promising deal he was lining up and headed off in this direction. Before Kraglin could tell him to wait, they had to be back at the docking station in two hours, plus the Vakauza Gang is around and they aren’t friendly to Ravagers, Quill was gone. The Terran is impulsive, emotional, and too charming for his own good, and it’s constantly getting him in trouble.

When Kraglin finally finds Quill, he’s half-passed out with half a dozen Vakauza surrounding him. There’s no blood, no sign of a struggle, but there’s a pretty girl standing off to the side, and she hands a packet of red powder back to one of the Vakauza before she takes her leave.

Kraglin recognizes it at once – it’s a hallucinogen called Freefall. Quill’s eyes are dilated, his head lolling from side to side as he tries squints and tries to talk to his captors. All that comes out is gibberish. He tries to get to his feet, but falls back down again, unable to maintain his balance.

“What do you think?” one of the Vakauza asks. “He looks pretty strong. And not bad looking. Could get a pretty good price for him.”

Kraglin’s face flushes, his hands clench, teeth grinding, and before any of the Vakauza realizes it, he’s standing in their midst.

They jump back, reaching for guns and knives. “Let him go,” he says, voice barely steady. “And I’ll leave ya alive.”

One of the bigger Vakauza snorts and lets out a barking laugh. “Leave us alive! Good one. Whatcha gonna do, scrawny? Stare us to death with those baby blues?”

“K-Krags?” Quill manages, turning watery, dilated eyes up to his.

“Dunno if ya can understand me, Pete,” Kraglin says, “But if ya can, jus’ stay down. I’ll take care of ‘em.”

What happens next is only remembered by Peter as some half-forgotten, fever-induced dream. There’s the image of Kraglin pulling out his blaster, the earth-shattering noise of the weapon taking out the three gun-wielding thugs in quick succession. The noise hurts Peter’s ears, makes everything even hazier and more colorful than it already is. Then it looks like Kraglin is flying around the room, taking down the bad guys as he goes. It makes perfect sense at the moment, but at the back of his mind, Peter knows that can’t be right, Kraglin can’t fly.

Regardless of what Quill sees, he at least knows he’s out of danger when the area goes quiet and he feels Kraglin pull him to his feet. “Quill, Quill, lookit me.”

Peter blinks hard a few times, trying to clear his vision. Kraglin is holding up something in front of his face.

“This is an antitoxin,” Kraglin says, holding up the syringe he nicked from one of the fallen Vakauza’s pockets. “It’s gonna hurt.” Peter just stares back, eyes bleary, swaying on his feet. Kraglin sighs in frustration. “But ya know, ya kinda deserve it.” He steadies Quill with one arm, and with the other, drives the syringe into his neck.

Quill yelps, tries to get away, but he stumbles and only bats at Kraglin uselessly.

Kraglin waits almost a full five minutes before starting to lead Quill away. His footfalls begin to steady, falling in step with his own.

“Kraglin?” he asks after a while. “Wh-what happened?”

“Ya did somethin’ stupid, probably. Jus’ shut up, Pete. If the Cap’n asks, I’ll do the talkin’.”

“Okay.”

“Tha’s it? Jus’ okay? No argument?”

“I dunno what happened back there,” Peter mumurs. “There were a bunch a people…what happened to ‘em?” He stumbles, and the First Mate braces an arm around his back securely.

“Don’t worry about it, Pete. Jus’ keep walkin’.”

* * *

Because of their tardiness, they hold up the _Eclector_ taking off and nearly get attacked by more Vakauza. Yondu apparently stole half their storehouse full of merchandise, and Kraglin and Peter were almost responsible for losing everything.

Kraglin stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Peter in front of the Captain, who stalks back and forth. He prays that Yondu is in a good mood.

“Yer lucky we had a good haul,” Yondu snaps at them, and despite the harsh tone, Kraglin relaxes slightly. He is. “So I’m gonna let ya off easy.”

Quill rolls his eyes and jumps back as Yondu pokes a finger hard into his chest. “The _ducts! Y’all are cleanin’ em._ ”

“B-but-” Kraglin stammers. That is not his idea of easy. But the death glare he gets from Yondu shuts him right up. It’s easier than a beating or the arrow. “Yessir.” He grabs Peter’s collar and drags the younger man away.

* * *

It’s well into Third Shift. “Okay, last one for this level,” Kraglin pants. “Then we’re goin’ to bed. We’ll pick up the rest tomorrow.”

Peter lifts an arm and sniffs into his armpit. He throws his head back, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh! Shower first, then bed.”

“Okay, Pete, one more time.”

Peter crouches and cups his hands; Kraglin slips his boot into his palms and Peter rises, lifting the First Mate into the ducts. “I remember when I was the one boostin’ ya into these damn things,” Kraglin groans, wriggling into the duct. He flings the hose into the duct, and sets it running, its sweepers brushing the duct in a circular motion to get all the surfaces free of dust. He sneezes.

“I can’t believe I used to be able to fit,” Peter says, leaning his head slightly against Kraglin’s calf. _Come And Get Your Love_ plays quietly out of the headphones around his neck. “It’s been over fifteen years since I came on board, can you believe that?”

“Damn,” Kraglin says, sticking his head out of the duct slightly to look at him. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah, man. I’m 26, I was 8 when you _picked me up,_ ” he says, with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Shit, I was 16 then,” the First Mate says with a shake of his head. “I can’t believe-oh, shit-” the vacuum has sucked onto something large. “Aw, damn. Please don’t be another orloni.”

Peter grimaces. “Or if it is, let it be a live one.”

“Ugh, don’t say that,” Kraglin says, his voice rebounding in the duct. “What the hell…? Pete, it’s – it’s yer _bag.”_

_“What?”_

“Lower me down,” Kraglin says, and Peter hooks a hand into his belt as he lowers the First Mate to the floor. In his hand, is the small backpack that Peter had on him when he boarded the _Eclector._ “Oh my god, I thought I’d lost this,” he says, blowing on it and smacking the fabric free of the dust.

“When?”

“I…” Peter’s brows draw down in thought. “I was running from Taserface, I think. He was threatening to take it away, so I climbed up into the vent and tossed it behind me, so just in case he caught me, it’d be safe. Then Yondu grabbed me out of the vent and had me clean the floors or some shit.” He unzips the backpack as Kraglin holds it. “I never remembered which duct I threw it into. I thought I’d never see it again.” He pulls out a doll with orange hair, an old handheld football game, and lastly – a small parcel wrapped in a brightly colored paper, tied with a blue ribbon.

Kraglin sees his fingers tremble as he holds it, and he studies the younger man’s face. He can’t even begin to guess what the package is, or what Peter is thinking. Quill just stands there for several minutes, only the music from his Walkman breaking the otherwise silent reverie. Kraglin is about to reach out and place a hand on the younger man’s shoulder when Peter turns his gaze up to his. His tear-filled eyes are sad for a moment, then they narrow. The usual warmth that they hold is gone, replaced with a cold and steely gaze.

Kraglin takes a half step back. “Pete? Ya okay?”

He only scowls, and places everything back in the bag, before yanking it out of Kraglin’s hands and stalking away.

* * *

The next day, Kraglin’s on his way to the mess when he hears Peter screaming.

Not screams of pain, thankfully – but it’s almost as bad, especially when he hears Yondu scream back. He can’t even make out what they’re saying, as they yell back and forth over each other. He runs into the room. Ravagers are gathered in a loose ring around the perimeter of the room.

Yondu’s fin is flickering, fists clenched. But he doesn’t look half as mad as Peter does. The Terran’s face is dark red with anger, his eyes narrow, finger pointing at Yondu. But Kraglin has been in enough fights to know that the sudden shift in Peter’s posture means he’s going to attack.

He darts between the two of them, just as Peter begins to charge at the Captain. "Pete! Pete, stop! C'mon, c'mon." He grabs Peter in a half-nelson and drags him out of the mess, amidst jeering and laughing Ravagers. He guides him to one of the sparring areas in the third Quadrant. It's a big, empty room, where Peter can cool down without interaction from others, and can pummel one of the training dummies if he wants to get some frustration out.

Instead of turning on one of the dummies, however, he rounds on Kraglin, tearing from the First Mate's grasp. "Why did you do that?" he demands.

Kraglin blinks, taking a step back. "Do what?"

"Stop me?"

"From hitting the Cap'n? Because it's the  _Cap'n_. He would’a-"

"He would’ve deserved it!"

"Pete-"

"You _always_ take his side!"

Kraglin can't stop a scowl. "Pete, I jus' kept ya from gettin' a beatin'. I was on yer side."

"No, you're on his side. You didn't want him to get hurt. You helped him abduct me."

“Abduct...? Pete, c'mon now, let's go-" He reaches for the younger man's shoulder in a friendly gesture, but Peter swats his hand away.

"Get off me," he snarls. "I don't know how I ever trusted you."

Kraglin's mind spins into a shocked haze of confusion as he regards the Terran with wide eyes. "What?"

"You've always been on Yondu's side! You helped him take me from my family!" Peter charges forward, fist hurled back.

Kraglin holds up his hands. "Peter-" He doesn't actually think Quill is going to hit him, and he's wrong. Peter’s fist makes perfect impact with his face, and he reels. "Pete, what the flarkin' hell has gotten into-" He gags as Quill punches him in the stomach. He falls down on the mat, clutching his middle.

"Get up!" Peter screams.

"What're ya doin', Pete?" Kraglin asks, regaining his breath. "What's gotten into you?"

"I let my guard down, I trusted you guys. But you've just been using me all these years."

"Using ya? Is that what ya really think?" Kraglin asks, getting to his feet.

"It's what I know!" Peter yells, and lunges for Kraglin again.

But the First Mate is ready this time, and easily side-steps the blow. He blocks and dodges all of Peter's moves, but instead of calming Peter down and tiring him out, it just seems to make him more furious. "Fight me!" he screams. "You bastard, fight me!"

"Stop it, Pete!" Kraglin yells back. He's starting to get angry. "Ya think - all this time, that I never cared about ya?"

There are angry tears in the man's eyes as he hurls fist after fist towards Kraglin. "I _know_ you didn't! You were just using me, using me to steal shit for you! You stole me from my family, from my home!"

"That ain't true!" Kraglin screams back.

Peter barrels into him, pinning him to the floor. "And you always take Yondu's side! Always! You're such a kiss-ass! You never gave a damn about me!"

"I loved ya like a brother!" Kraglin screams, getting his legs under Peter and shoving him off.

"You're a fucking liar! You're just a dirty - rotten - thief!" Peter shouts, a swing of a fist emphasizing each word. "You don't know how to love!" 

Something in Kraglin snaps at this, and he jabs out a fist with all his weight. It makes contact with Peter's jaw. He recoils, regretting the moment he feels his knuckles brush against the younger man's skin. He and Peter have gotten into countless arguments and fights over the years, have rough-housed and sparred, but they've never fought like this, and Kraglin has never laid a finger on Peter in anger. Now it's done, he can't go back. Peter lays on the floor, staring up at him with hate- and tear-filled eyes, his lips bloody. In that moment, Kraglin knows that they will never go back to the way things were.

"You sonuvabitch!" Peter screams and tackles Kraglin around the legs. The First Mate is still too shaken to stop it, and he goes down hard, cracking his head against the floor. Spots dance before his eyes. Instinct takes over and he gets his legs underneath Peter's belly and kicks out. The younger man goes tumbling off of him, swearing.

He charges Kraglin again - and the Yaka arrow zips in between the two of them. 

"What the hell are ya two doin'?" Yondu's voice growls. 

Peter tries to get around the arrow to get at the First Mate, but Yondu pushes him back. "I hate you," Peter hisses, shoving Yondu away, but his eyes are trained on Kraglin as he says the words.

Kraglin doesn't respond. Part of him wants to cry, but the rest of him is so consumed with anger that he can't even consider tears.

“Git outta here, boy. Go cool down,” Yondu snaps. Prodded by the arrow, Peter storms out of the room. The Captain turns to him. “What was that about?"

“Hell if I know, sir," Kraglin growls, wiping blood from his face with the back of a hand.

"I'll confine him to quarters."

"Yeah, lotta good that'll do," Kragin mutters under his breath. 

"What's that?"

"Said, that's a good idea," Kraglin says, louder. "Gonna go wash up."

Yondu grasps his upper arm as he passes, and the First Mate is locked in the ruby gaze. "Don't be startin' any more fights with him, Kraglin."

Kraglin stares, and his jaw tightens. He hisses a "Yessir," through gritted teeth. It's the first time he wants to punch Yondu in the face. 

* * *

As he thought, things are never the same between them again. They avoid each other, and if they can't, they won't pass each other without shoving each other into the walls. It never dissolves into a fight, despite the fire in Peter's eyes that tells him he'd like nothing better. Yondu makes sure they are no longer put on missions together. Quill begins to go on more and more missions, often times solo flights, scoping out the place before the rest of the team hits. He starts bending the rules and finding loopholes even more than he had before, and while Yondu puts on the façade of harsh punishment, Kraglin sees that Quill gets away with more than the Captain lets on.

He and Peter see less and less of each other as the years progress, and then one day, he's just  _gone_.

It’s one of the rare times that everyone else is busy, and it’s up to Kraglin to round up Peter for the mission ahead. He raps on the door, orders him to open up, and when he doesn’t, he punches in his override code and barges into the small closet-turned-cabin that they had given Peter when he turned fourteen.

The room is dark and empty. But it’s not just empty of Peter, it’s empty of his belongings, too. The backpack, the little doll with the funny orange hair, the Walkman; they’re all missing. When he opens one of the dresser drawers, his heart plummets slightly. The clothes are gone too. This was not an accident.

"Sir?" he asks, coming into the control room. "Peter's gone."

"Yeah,” Yondu says, “He took off for Xandar, scopin’ out a deal there, gonna meet us on Morag to git this orb. Ya seen that projection gun?”

"Uh, no sir. Are ya sure-"

"Ready a team. Nine should be plenty, includin’ ya, me and Horuz. You pick the others. Make sure we got a nav, a tech, and someone good with excavatin’, and a translator.”

"But sir-"

"What's the problem, Krags?" Yondu snaps.

Kraglin closes his mouth and shakes his head. "Nothin', sir. I'll go gather the team."

When they touch down on Morag, Peter is not there. There's no sign of him, and as they cross the threshold of some kind of temple, they realize that the Orb is gone.

Yondu yanks a holopad out of his jacket, and it projects into the air before him. "Quill?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Hey, Yondu."  Kraglin hears Peter's hesitant answer. He shifts his stance, so he can see the man’s face over Yondu’s shoulder.

"I'm here on Morag. Ain't no Orb, ain't no you."

"Well, I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd save you the hassle."

Kraglin bites back a scoff, and Yondu turns from the group, walking away a few paces as he talks to Peter. "...and now yer gonna rip' me off! We do not do that to each other. We're Ravagers, we got a code." He shifts his weight. "When I picked you up on Terra," he starts, and Kraglin repeats the words in his mind as Yondu says them, "These boys of mine wanted to eat you. They ain't never tasted any Terran before. I stopped 'em. You're alive because of me! I will find you. I will-" Yondu holds the holopad. "Sonuvabitch!" He whirls to the team. "Put a bounty on him! Forty K. But I want him back alive," he adds, pulling Kraglin towards him by the upper arm.

"Yeah, Cap." he replies, and gets out his own holopad to organize the bounty. It comes with no small amount of satisfaction, but he's glad Yondu said alive. He'd be satisfied with Peter getting a few hard punches to the gut, but he doesn't want the man dead.

"Alive?" he hears Horuz echo, and glances over. 

"That's what I said."

"I told you when you picked that kid up, you should have delivered him like we was hired to do!" Horuz continues, ignoring the Captain's deepening frown that Kraglin recognizes as a red flag. "He was cargo! You have always been soft on him."

Yondu stops and seizes Horuz's jacket. "You're the only one I'm being soft on! Now, don't you worry about Mr. Quill. As soon as we get him back here, I'm gonna kill him myself. What we do need to worry about, is who else out there wants that Orb!"

Kraglin stares after the Captain as they walk back to the M-ships, his words echoing in Kraglin's ears.  _I'm gonna kill him myself._ This time, the threat doesn't sound hollow.


	27. Guardians

Kraglin walks the halls of the _Eclector_ purposefully, towards the small room off the docking bay where Peter and the girl were brought on board by the tractor beam. The vital readings said that Peter was nearly dead. He tries to swallow back his rising heart rate at the thought. Sure, he can be a jackass, but he doesn’t _really_ want Peter dead, does he?

He enters the room and stops in his tracks, mouth hanging open slightly. He has the woman underneath him, he’s cradling her head in his hands, and they look like they’re about to kiss. He suppresses the strong urge to roll his eyes. _Un-flarkin’-believable._ He draws his blaster and cocks it, aiming at them.

The pair looks up at the noise with wide eyes.

He can’t help but smirk as the crowd of Ravagers that had followed him raises their weapons alongside his. “Welcome home, Peter.”

* * *

Kraglin stares on as Yondu punches Peter repeatedly. The first couple hits gave him a small amount of satisfaction, but this is getting brutal. However, Peter needs to be treated like one of the crew. If any of his crewmates had done the same, they’d have gotten the arrow a long time ago.

"...They ain't never tasted Terran before. I saved your life!" Yondu is saying.

"Oh, will you shut up about that?" Quill yells _. "God!_ Twenty years, you've been throwing that in my face, like it's some great thing, not eating me! Normal people don't even think about eating someone else! Much less that person having to be grateful for it! You abducted me, man. You stole me from home and from my family."

Yondu rounds on him, walks up close. "Ya don't give a damn about yer Terra! Yer scared because you're soft in here." He beats his fists against his chest once. "Here! Right here!" He slams Peter against the wall.

The girl shouts at him, and Kraglin watches her. “Yondu! Listen to me! Ronan has something called an Infinity Stone-“

Yondu turns to her with a scowl. “I know what he’s got, girl.”

“Then you know we must get it back! He's going to use it to wipe out Xandar."

Kraglin's eyes widen slightly, and his eyes flick from Peter, to the girl, to Yondu. An uneasy feeling stirs in his chest. Xandar isn't his home any more, but it was once, and it's where his mother is buried. It's where he lived with Vara.

"We have to warn them. Billions of people will perish."

Yondu gestures to the girl. "Is that what she's been filling your head with, boy? Sentiment?" He slaps Peter across the cheek, hard, then puts his hands on either side of his face. "Eating away yer brain like maggots!" He releases him with a scoff, shaking his head. "Tha's it." He whistles, and the Yaka arrow bolts out of its holster to spin at Peter's throat.

"No!" the girl screams, and the depths of Kraglin's heart echo the cry. But he stands his ground, sets his face. Peter's been given chance after chance after chance. If anyone else had crossed Yondu time and time again, the way Peter has over the years, they'd be long dead.

"Sorry boy. But a cap'n’s gotta teach his men what happens to those what cross him."

Kraglin turns away. He moves through the crowd slowly. He doesn't want to see it happen."Cap'ns gotta teach stuff!" Kraglin echoes, to give the impression that the Captain's got his full support. The crew grunts and nod in agreement.

Yondu turns around, facing the Ravagers, and begins to purse his lips to deliver the killing blow.

“You kill me now, you are saying goodbye the biggest score you have ever seen,” Peter begins, and Kraglin stops, glancing at the younger man. _Does he really have somethin’ up his sleeve? Even now?_ _Well, it’s Peter, ain’t it? Wouldn’t be a damn bit surprised._

Yondu turns to him with a brief grin. “The stone?” he asks, walking closer. “I hope ya got better somethin’ better than that, ‘cause ain’t nobody stealin’ from Ronan.”

“We got a ringer,” Peter says steadily, eyes darting between the arrow, Yondu, and the girl.

Kraglin crosses back to his original position, to better keep an eye on the three of them.

“Issat right?”

Peter nods slightly at the girl. “She knows everything there is to know about Ronan. His ships, his army…”

“He’s vulnerable,” she interjects softly.

“What do you say, Yondu, huh? You and me, taking down marks, side by side like the old days. Huh?”

The room is deathly still, no one dares move, and even Kraglin holds his breath as Yondu considers. It is the Captain’s decision whether Quill lives or dies. Yondu shifts on his feet slightly, and then his lips twitch, he purses his lips – and the arrow whisks back into its holster.

Kraglin lets out a shaking breath as Yondu bursts into laughter. “Let him go!” the Captain draws Quill down into a one-armed hug, and the First Mate finds himself more relieved than annoyed.

* * *

It’s been a shit storm of a day. They successfully held off Ronan’s armies alongside the Nova Corps – hell if _that_ don’t beat all – and all Kraglin wants to just get some soup and catch a few hundred hours of sleep, but it’s not over yet.

The First Mate wipes his brow as he climbs up the loose scree to come at a rest by Yondu's side. They stand atop a tall mountain of rubble amidst broken buildings, the remains of ships and the dead bodies of Sakaarans, Xandarians, Nova Corpsmen and their own Ravagers.

“What the hell is the rat doing?” Yondu asks, breaking the First Mate out of his thoughts.

Kraglin steps nearer to the edge, staring down as Rocket fires - but he doesn't fire at Ronan. He fires at the staff that they know holds the destructive Infinity Stone. The staff explodes, and Kraglin lurches so badly he almost falls down the rise as Peter leaps towards the falling stone. The Terran’s hand closes on it. Quill’s scream is loud and raw with torturous pain. “Pete!” Kraglin wants to shout, but it only comes out in a hoarse whisper, turning into gasp as Quill, Ronan and all those within a twenty-foot radius are enveloped in a swirling black cloud of smoke and purple lightning. Bystanders run from the area.

Kraglin’s feet move – _Peter’s in trouble – my brother – he’s going to get killed – I gotta do somethin’ – Peter is gonna die_ – but Yondu’s hand snatches out and clenches Kraglin’s arm painfully. He glances at his Captain, and behind the purple light reflected by the miniature storm, there’s deep pain and worry in his ruby eyes. “There’s nothin’ we can do,” he murmurs, for Kraglin’s ears only.

“Idjit!” Kraglin mutters under his breath. “Flarkin’ idjit!”

Screams and yells – not just Peter’s now, but Gamora’s, Drax, Rocket – they all come from within the black mass, until there’s one final scream. He doesn’t recognize the voice, so he’s assumes – and prays – that it’s Ronan’s. Then, suddenly, the storm evaporates. The stone is enclosed in the orb again, and it’s just Peter and his buddies, panting with exertion. By some miracle, they didn’t get torn apart. He can’t see Peter clearly from this angle, but he’s hunched, and looks like he’s in pain.

Yondu releases Kraglin’s arm and turns to find a way down around the rubble. It’s several minutes before they find a safe path to Peter. Civilians move out of their way. His eyes go to Peter, who, though bleeding freely and bruised all over, is standing. Kraglin watches his Captain closely and sees just the tiniest hint of relief spread over his tense shoulders at the sight.

The First Mate almost wants to laugh at Quill’ sheer dumb luck, but forces his face into a steely-eyed frown. _Sonuvabitch cheated death again. Of course he did._ He shakes his head slightly. _Thank the gods._

After Yondu has the Orb, they make their way to their remaining M-ships. Kraglin stares down at Peter and Gamora, standing among the rubble below.  Part of him wishes he could have said goodbye properly, because it doesn’t seem like Peter’s ever really coming home, despite what the Captain might think. All things considered, he's a little impressed with Peter’s actions today. _He almost died. He was willin’ to sacrifice himself to keep Ronan from killin’ everybody on Xandar._ A faint smile crosses his lips, and he shakes his head lightly. “Yeah, Quill turned out okay,” he says, not entirely meaning to say it out loud, and sees Yondu tilt his head towards him slightly in expectation. “It’s probably good we didn’t deliver him to his dad like we was hired to do.”

“Yeah, that guy was a jackass.” The reply comes without hesitation, but there’s the slightest undercurrent of edginess, a hatred that comes up whenever Ego is alluded to. “Although he’s probably the only reason Quill’s alive after all that,” he adds in a quiet murmur.

* * *

Turns out, Quill had swapped the orb. Yondu had just grinned, placing the little doll with the funny orange hair on his control console next to the little glass frog. The Ravagers’ merry making at their success had ended abruptly as they realized what had happened, but Yondu allowed no time for anger. There were other, more solemn things to attend to now that the battle was done.

* * *

Kraglin wipes furtively at an eye. They lost a lot of Ravagers in the battle today, but he doesn’t feel any so keenly as the death of Horuz. Though he was not the most optimistic or friendly sort, he still taught Kraglin a lot throughout the years, and was always someone he knew he could count on for a friendly drink or a word of advice, and was always someone he knew had his back.

All of the Ravagers’ bodies were lost during the battle; sunk in the ocean, burned, or otherwise missing – gone down with their ships. In their place, they have filled a shallow casket with the belongings of the deceased.

Tullk brings out a little box of Horuz’s things; his favorite tool set, and pair of faded gloves, and a folded, faded photograph, which Tullk hands to Kraglin. He unfolds it, to reveal a photo of a beautiful young girl. Scrawled in the corner is the name _Islynn._

Kraglin vaguely wonders who she is, and his throat tightens as he realizes how much he didn’t really know about Horuz. Not that the man was big on sharing - he liked his privacy - but Kraglin regrets that he didn’t _try_. He known him for nearly 30 years, and all he could tell you was what the mans favorite brand of liquor was. _Jus shows that ya don’t know what ya got til it’s gone. If I’d known that ya weren’t comin’ back with us…I wish I’d known ya better, spent more time with ya. Confided in ya more._ He sniffs as he places the photograph inside, between Horuz’s gloves.

Yondu lights the candles as they stand in the crematory, the entire crew, except for the wounded, gathered around him, all solemn and silent.

“Lost a lot of men today,” the Captain begins. “Now, we ain’t honest, we ain’t honorable, and we ain’t sentimental. But today, we was part a somethin’ bigger than ourselves, we saved billions a’ people. Maybe fer the only time in yer life, y’all were heroes today. And so were these men that died. They sacrificed themselves to save ya, and to save the billions of women and children down there on Xandar. The planet might not mean a lot to all y’all, but I know some of ya hail from there.” His eyes rest on Kraglin briefly. “Point is, y’all did good today, and I want to take a moment a’ silence before we dedicate the bodies.” The area falls quiet, and Yondu makes his way over to Kraglin. The First Mate hands him a holopad with the names of all the fallen Ravagers. “Abercan. Beezel. Borja….” Yondu begins to read, leaving a beat of silence between each name. “…Hookfinger. Horuz. Iliak.” The list goes on and on, 37 names in all. “We commit yer spirits to the deep of space. May y’all hear the Horns of Freedom, and be greeted by those who have gone before ya.” He gives a nod to Tullk and Kraglin, and they load the cannons with the fireworks – the Colors of Ogord. As the casket is pushed into the crematory, it’s enveloped by the sparkling colors of the energy swirling there. The hatch is closed, and the crew moves to an upper level to watch the dust trail as it flows in the _Eclector’s_ wake. The cannons are fired, and glowing maroon starbursts of varying shapes and patterns explode over the sparkling dust trail.

Kraglin stands between Tullk and Oblo, their arms around each other’s shoulders as they watch the brilliant spectacle. _Goodbye, old friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done with this fic, guys. Just another 2-3 chapters.


	28. Mutiny

_No matter how many times Quill betrays ya, ya protect him like none of the rest of us much matter! I’m the one what sticks up fer ya!_

Kraglin slides down the wall, his head buried in his hands as his earlier words rebound in his mind. He's in the most secluded part of the _Eclector_ he can find at the moment, while still being close enough to everyone in case something else happens.  _The Kree consider themselves merciful; it will be quick and painless._  The Kree have been contacted by Taserface, and they're coming to get the Captain, who has been secured in the brig with Rocket. Kraglin breathes deeply, trying to keep his tears at bay, but it's difficult. His breath shakes.

He just wanted Yondu to know how he felt. He didn’t expect _this_ to happen. _Yer the damn First Mate, ya shoulda seen it comin’._ He drops his hands from his face and leans his head back against the wall, eyes searching the ceiling.  _Ya flarkin' idjit_.  _Ya couldn'a picked a worse time. Ya should'a gone to the Cap'n alone, told him how ya felt about things. But no, ya had to be a damn fool and shoot off yer mouth. And now –_ he chokes on his breath – _and now Tullk and Oblo are dead, and it's all yer fault._ He swallows, the lump of tears as unmovable as a boulder in his throat, remembering his friends' last moments. 

As Taserface rounded up those loyal to Yondu, Kraglin had just stood by in shock. The Captain was bound to a chair, bleeding and bruised from Taserface’s beatings. Tullk had seized the First Mate, cupping his neck and pulling his head against his. For one terrifying moment, Kraglin thought his friend was going to break his neck, but Tullk had whispered urgently in his ear, "Don't try to stop 'em, wee man. Look after the Cap'n."

Tullk had been torn away from him, dragged to the airlock. Kraglin had turned away then, run from the room. Oblo's pleas and cries for help echoed down the halls after him. He'd taken Thanos' second daughter - Nebula - gotten her a ship, and sent her away. He strangely felt no ill will towards her - she was just doing what was best for her, didn't really mean them any harm, they were just a way to get free of the Guardians, a stepping stone on her path to kill Thanos. If Nebula had wanted to kill the Captain, she easily could have. It was Taserface that wanted Yondu dead, and it was him that had called in the Kree. 

 _The Kree,_ he thinks, hiding his face in his hands again _. They ain't gonna kill Yondu quick. That girl don't know his past with them. After tryin’ to get him back fer over thirty years, Cap’n’ll be getting off_ easy _if they kill him. Gods above, this is all my damn fault. I gotta help him somehow, but what can I do? There's too many Ravagers loyal to Taserface, I can take down a lot, but that's too many by myself. Yondu's locked in the brig with Rocket...and I don't think the lil' un will be much help. If Yondu could use his arrow, then maybe, but his fin is destroyed. If only he had -_ He sits up straight, hands clenching. _Wait! The prototype that the Cap'n and I was workin' on! I can git it to him, and he can escape that way. I can still fix this._

He immediately jumps to his feet, and jogs in the direction of the Captain's quarters. He hangs back, ducking into the shadows of a side corridor as he sees the little flora colossus scramble down the hallway and through the open cabin doorway. He squints.  _What in the hell could the lil' un want in the Cap'n's room?_  He gasps softly.  _Unless the Cap'n's got the same idea, and he's sendin’ him to get it._ Silently, Kraglin enters Yondu’s expansive cabin, and carefully picks his way around sleeping Ravagers. Taserface lies in the Captain's bed sleeping, and the little flora colossus is retrieving something from the drawer where the fin is kept, standing on the mattress and extending his vine-like arms. He gleefully pulls out what looks like a tin of little candies and draws it back to his chest.

"That ain't it," Kraglin offers, keeping his voice low as not to wake the Ravagers.

The child spins to face him, frightened, but he holds up his hands and comes closer, reaching into the drawer. He pulls out the prototype fin, shows it to the flora colossus, whose eyes light up in realization. Kraglin places a finger to his lips and extends a hand. Discarding the tin, the child hesitantly tumbles into his hand. The First Mate lifts the colossus to his shoulder, where he stands, holding onto his earlobe for support. "I am Groot,” he whispers in a small voice.

"Oh, uh - I'm Kraglin," he replies as he hurriedly leaves the room with the prototype in his hands. He swallows as he makes his way to the brig, turning the fin over and over in his hands. Every step nearer causes his heart to sink lower and lower. Tears gather in his eyes.

His Captain is going to kill him. He's going to be murdered by the man he looks up to, the man he's regarded as not only his commander all these years, but in his heart of hearts, a father.  _I deserve it,_ he thinks, blinking back tears.  _I betrayed him. I promised to always have his back, I promised I would never let him down, I told him I cared fer him. He trusted me with his life, his crew and his ship and this is how I repaid him? Some poor excuse fer a First Mate I turned out to be. I deserve whatever he does to me._  He pauses in the hallway, sorting through these thoughts.  _If it means the Cap'n is free and is gonna fix this, take back the ship, then – then it’s okay. I can face this. If it’s the last thing I do, I can find the strength to face this. Ain’t gonna run away like a coward._ He suddenly feels oddly at peace with his impending death, though he's still nervous about actually facing the Captain. He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what he's going to say. He's not going to make any excuses. _Just tell it like it is._  

He comes upon the brig. Yondu is slumped against the wall, his implant demolished. There's still   blood on his face, but unlike earlier, there’s a fire in his eyes. Rocket stands opposite him, arms crossed. Kraglin draws near and carefully tosses the prototype fin through the bars, where it lands at Yondu's feet. The Captain looks up, and in his eyes, Kraglin sees a mixture of surprise, anger, regret, and disappointment.

Kraglin opens his mouth, voice trembling and cracking. "Didn't mean to do a mutiny,” he says, avoiding Yondu’s gaze. Tears sting his eyes, and his throat is tight. "They killed all my friends." He looks back at Yondu and is shocked to see that while the disappointment still lingers, it fades quickly, and the anger is completely gone.

"Prepare the third Quadrant for release," Yondu says.

Kraglin can hardly believe his ears. _It's not a I'm gonna kill yer ass when I'm outta here_ , not a  _yer gonna be sorry boy_ , not even a  _yer a traitor._  The Captain isn't going to kill him. At least not right now. He feels like he might collapse from relief. Kraglin stands up straight, squares his shoulders, and pounds a fist over his heart twice in salute before gently placing Groot inside the brig.

"One more thing," Rocket says, and Kraglin turns. "Ya got any clones of Quill’s old music on the ship?”

* * *

Kraglin is still trying to even out his breathing after the seven hundred Jumps they just went through. He’s still amazed that they survived that. Now Yondu and Rocket are off to battle Ego. Yondu told him that Ego had plans to kill Peter, just like he’d killed all his other children, and it’s up to them to save him.

Kraglin needed no further explanations. He’s ready and willing to do anything that his Captain asks of him. Anything but what Yondu asks next.

"Krags, I need ya to give this to Quill." Into the First Mate’s hand, Yondu presses the Zune they'd picked up off that Terran junker on Byrmal a month or so back. 

Kraglin stares down at it, confused. "Cap'n, I think it’d mean a lot more comin' from...from you...." He trails off as he catches a look in the depths of Yondu's eyes. There’s that feeling – he’s had it all day, he thought it was the mutiny, but something's about to happen, something worse. "Cap'n? Yer - yer comin' back, ain't ya?" The words come out weak, terrified.

Yondu sighs and shakes his head. "I dunno, Krags. Jus' do this fer me, okay?"

Kraglin nods numbly. It's all he can do. He’s not going to disobey his Captain again, but he can’t stop the tears that are already spilling over onto his cheeks. He lost his friends already, almost lost his Captain once, and it's about to happen again. He can’t do this. He can’t handle this.

Yondu steps closer, laying hands on his shoulders. "Lookit me, boy," he says. "I ain't done much right all these years, didn't do good by you, or Quill, or the crew. I gotta do this. And in case I don't come outta this,” he continues, cupping Kraglin’s face in one hand, “I want ya to know that it's been an honor servin' with ya, Kraglin. Ya been a great friend and a damn good First Mate."

Kraglin lets out a choking sob, clenching his hand around the Captain's wrist as Yondu's face blurs with his tears. "B-but the mutiny-" he chokes.

"No, no," Yondu says quietly. "That weren't yer fault. That was bound to happen whether ya said somethin' or not. Weren't yer fault, boy, don't blame yerself fer that." They hear Rocket’s voice calling, and they both look towards the door. "I gotta go," the Captain says softly, and grasps Kraglin's hand in his. "Ya done good, son. Stand by, keep a sharp eye out. If it all pans out, we’ll see each other again."

Kraglin salutes tearfully. "I'll be here waitin' fer ya, sir.”


	29. Family and Forgiveness

Kraglin was true to his word. He waited. He stood by, and kept standing by, taking orders from Rocket in Yondu's place as Ego began to explode around them. He couldn't go - couldn't leave his Captain - couldn't leave Peter. But he had to take responsibility for the six others aboard the ship - he couldn't sacrifice all their lives just to wait on the Captain and Quill. Too many people had died today already, so he forced himself to be calm and unemotional about the situation, even though his heart was in his boots. Yondu and Peter would find their way out, they'd come through it somehow. They always did.

But hours later finds him sobbing in a dark corner of the ship alone. He needed to be alone, needed space, needed time to think, needed privacy to let his tears flow. Yondu's cold, dying body was brought aboard, Peter screaming and shaking his frozen shoulders, clawing at his space suit to get it off. Drax had to intervene, had to bodily tear him away, so they could get Yondu the medical attention he needed. But the full med bay had been in the second Quadrant - there's just a smaller and less equipped one aboard this Quadrant, so what they have to work with is limited. Kraglin had stuck around just long enough to see Yondu’s faint life signature blipping on the screen, and then had stolen away to where he now sits. 

He cries because he knows that it's going to take nothing short of a miracle for his Captain to wake up, and he didn't get the chance to tell him how much he meant to him, how much he appreciated him and everything he did for him all these years, saving his life from the Skrulls, giving his life security and purpose, giving him a _family_. He cries because he lost Tullk, he lost Oblo, he lost all his other friends. Even the ship that had been his home for over thirty years is gone. Everything that ever meant anything to him is gone.

Everything except Peter.

After his tears have dried, he goes in search of Peter. Gamora informs him that he’s in the med bay, despite her valiant efforts to make him rest. Sure enough, Kraglin finds him hunched in a chair at Yondu's bedside. Peter looks up as he enters the room. His face is pale and drawn, eyes bloodshot.

"Mind if I join ya?" Kraglin asks softly.

Peter doesn't respond, but dully nods to the only other chair in the room, on the opposite side of Yondu's bed. They sit in silence; Kraglin's eyes are drawn up to his Captain, lying still on the cot between them. The ice has flaked off completely, leaving Yondu's visible skin a pale, cold blue-grey color. Special thermal blankets cover most of him, their circuitry shimmering every so often as they expel remaining cold away. There's a respirator hooked up to him, as well as a machine to fix his eyes, both of which cover most of his face. The machines around him blip sorrowfully, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

Eyes blurring again, Kraglin clasps his hands, bows his head against his knuckles, and prays to every deity he can think of. 

After what seems like hours, he hears Peter shift in his chair, and looks up, startled at the noise.

"Kraglin?" Peter's voice is soft and seems to hold the First Mate's name like it’s made of glass. 

"Pete?"

"I - I'm _sorry."_ Kraglin regards him with surprise, and watches as tears well over the man's eyes to spill down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry," he gasps out, and he's sobbing.

All the hate, all the jealousy that Kraglin has ever held towards Peter is gone. Every comeback, every stern word, every speech that he had planned to give to Peter upon being reunited, vanishes without a trace from his mind. Before him, he sees not a thirty-four-year-old man, but the eight-year-old boy that they first brought aboard the  _Eclector_  all those years ago - vulnerable, fragile, and afraid of losing his family.

Kraglin gets up with a harsh scrape of his chair and without a word, pulls Peter into his arms. The younger man latches onto him like a rock in a flood, weeping into his shoulder. Tears stream from Kraglin's eyes. "I'm sorry, Pete," he whispers brokenly. "I'm sorry too."

The tears flow and flow. It might be minutes, it might be hours, but even after Kraglin feels like he doesn't have any tears left, he still doesn't let go of Peter. He opens his mouth, and words just come tumbling out. "I'm sorry I weren't there for ya like I should'a been. I'm sorry I was such an ass to ya, I'm sorry I was jealous a' ya, and-"

At this, Peter sniffles loudly and pushes away, wiping his eyes. _"J-jealous?_ Of me? What the hell for?"

Kraglin lets out a choking laugh. "Yondu gave ya so much, let ya get away with so much, he didn't treat ya like the rest a’ the crew. He didn't treat ya like everyone else – didn’t treat ya like he treated me. I was jealous of the special attention ya got."

Peter looks at him like he’s growing an extra head. He drags his palm over his left eye. "D-dude, I was jealous of  _you."_

_"What?"_

"Yondu always trusted you, man. He treated you like an adult, not some little kid. He gave you responsibilities - awesome ones - and let you do all the cool shit."

Kraglin slowly realizes Peter might be right, but still protests. "Ya got to do cool shit too."

"Only because I snuck out and did it. Yondu never  _asked_  me to, the way he asked you. But then I always ended up in trouble, I guess," he says, cracking a half-hearted smile. His voice drops, coming out in a soft, gentle tone. "But you always got me out of trouble again, didn't you, Krags?"

Kraglin gives him a trembling smile and nods. He drags his chair over next to the younger man. "What happened to us, Peter?" he asks forlornly. "We used to be so close."

"I know," Peter says, hanging his head. "I adored you when I was a kid, you know? You were the coolest."

"Then I got boring."

Peter lets out a wet little chuckle, wiping another tear from his eye. "Nah, I just turned into a little shit. I was a total ass to you."

"Not all the time," Kraglin says. "Ya were a real good kid most of the time. I just. Like I said, I got jealous." He shakes his head, and his eyes go up to Yondu and the beeping monitors. "Seems so damn stupid now," he says quietly, and his voice breaks.

"Yeah," Peter whispers, "All the fights, the pranks, the arguments...seems so pointless and dumb. I wish...I should have seen what I had all these years, it was in front of me all the time. You...Y-Yondu. I was just too blind to see it." He bows his head again, and Kraglin sees tears shine as they fall from his eyes onto the floor.

Kraglin lays a hand on his shoulder. "He - he called me his boy, Krags," Peter gasps brokenly. "Basically told me that he was my dad. And then - then he- he just- I couldn't -" He shakes off Kraglin’s hand quickly, leaping from his chair to walk agitatedly around the room. _“God_ , why was I so _stupid?_ If I hadn’t fallen for Ego’s act, he’d be fine!” He gestures wildly to Yondu. “He’d be awake right now and- and he wouldn’t…” He lets his hand drop as the last words trail off into another sob. Without warning or hesitation, he turns and smashes a fist into the wall.

“Peter! Peter, stop,” Kraglin says, drawing him into another embrace. “It ain’t yer fault." He loops an arm around the younger man’s shoulders and steers him back to his chair. “It ain’t yer fault, Cap’n knew what he was gettin’ into. And we all wish we could'a said more, done more. We all got regrets.”

They sit in silence for several minutes, broken only by the sound of their sniffling and Yondu’s monitors. Then comes a broken whisper, “Is he gonna make it, Kraglin?”

Kraglin swallows down a painful lump of tears. "Y-yeah, Pete. He’s gonna make it. I have to believe he is," he whispers back, hugging him. _He has to._ "And when he wakes up, we'll be here waiting. Watch, he’ll probably cuss us out fer cryin’."

* * *

Hours later finds the two sitting knee-to-knee, listening to the Zune, an earbud for each of them. They'd talked quietly about the past, about fond memories. They'd shied away from talking about the current state of affairs; Yondu's shallowly-breathing form in front of them is more than enough reminder of what has transpired in the last 48 hours. _Father and Son_ finishes playing, and Peter sniffles loudly. Kraglin wipes a tear from his eye, glancing up again at his Captain. He lets a small, trembling smile cross his lips - Yondu had spent hours loading the Zune up with music. There'd been lots on there to begin with, but he'd sorted through and picked out things he thought Quill would like and had gotten his hands on some other Terran music along the way. He'd even asked Kraglin's opinion, and the First Mate had snuck some songs in there. It'd been a good day when he'd been feeling charitable, thankful for what Peter and his team did for Xandar. The song that plays next, _Hey Brother_ was one that he'd picked.

Peter smiles down at the Zune in his hand, glancing over at Kraglin. The First Mate loops an arm about the man's shoulders, and they sit like that for twelve more songs, until Peter's head begins to droop, and at last falls into the crook of Kraglin's shoulder. The First Mate doesn't move, letting the younger man rest. He deserves it, after all he's been through.

As the Zune plays _I Want You Back_ , Kraglin's mind flies back twenty years, remembering when the boy crawled into his cot, where he lay injured from Zeede's attacks. From there, it jumps forward, to the cemetery where Peter knelt by his side before his mother's grave. And the memories keep flooding in like the tide.

Peter clinging to his side in bed after a particularly bad nightmare - he can almost feel the small arm wrapped around his chest as Peter cried into his shirt. He'd just held him for hours until they both fell asleep. -- Peter saving his life, holding tight to his hand as he hung over a cliff on Daboon, with nothing but rocks below. He remembers the fear in Peter's eyes, the fiery determination, the relived laughter when he'd dragged him to safety. -- He remembers the two of them sitting atop a roof on Xandar, watching parades; streams of colorful powder shooting through the air and dying the streets, rivers, and fountains blue, purple, orange. -- There was heist they'd pulled on the Nova Corps - they'd turned Kraglin in for his reward money, then Peter had broken him out of the transport ship on the way to the Kyln, after the money had been cashed. -- He remembers pranks they'd played on the crew together, and the punishment served as a result - cleaning the toilets or the ducts - they'd grumbled, swore, but they always ended up smiling somehow. -- He misses the nights in the alcoves on the Eclector, where he and Peter would remember their families together, share a drink, or just look out over the vastness of space. They'd just sit there sometimes, not saying anything, and it was a comfortable, companionable quietness that surrounded them.

Then he remembers the first time he'd cloned Peter's music and played it through the _Eclector’s_ speaker system. The shining light of joy in Peter's eyes is something he thought he'd never forget. But he had. The jealousy, the pain, the anger, it had buried all the memories that endeared the younger man to him. He scoots his chair slightly closer to Peter's, tightens his hand on the younger man's shoulder. Words from so long ago float back to him, spoken to that little Terran boy _. If I had a lil' brother, ya'd be it._ Tears prick at his eyes, and he closes them, resting his cheek against Peter's curly head.  _Yer my brother, Pete, ya always have been and ya always will be. I'm sorry I forgot that._ As the Zune plays in his ear, he slowly drifts off to sleep, content for just the moment that his brother is alive and safe by his side.

Kraglin doesn't know if minutes or days has passed when he's awoken by a shrill _"I am Groot!"_ and hears Peter curse sleepily, before they both leap to their feet. Rocket has climbed up on the bed by Yondu’s feet, Groot on his shoulder, and for one heart-shattering moment, Kraglin fears the worst. Then he sees that Rocket is smiling and looks up towards the head of the bed.

Yondu is _awake._

All sound seems to be drowned out as his Captain's eyes come to rest on his, the machine that had repaired them now gone. He vaguely feels the tears spill down his cheeks, barely feels his feet move as he makes his way to Yondu's side. Sound slowly comes back. Peter is half-crying, half cussing out Yondu from where his head is buried in the Captain’s shoulder. Drax and Mantis are laughing loudly in the doorway, Rocket is making snide comments, the little flora colossus is on his shoulder, waving his tiny arms and crying out “I am Groot!” repeatedly. Gamora is the only quiet one, her hand locked in Peter’s as she does the sensible thing and checks over the monitors.

Kraglin tentatively lays his hand on Yondu’s wrist, squeezing gently, hoping the small gesture can convey his affection and relief.

"It's okay, son," Yondu croaks, patting Peter's head with a weak hand, but his eyes are still on Kraglin. His fingers close around his First Mate's. "It's okay."

* * *

It’s the very beginning of First Watch. The ship is quiet at last. Gamora finally dragged Peter away to get some food, a shower, and had sent him to bed, threatening to knock him over the head if need be. Thankfully, he’d gone quietly, and he’s been asleep for the last four hours. Gamora herself comes to check in on Yondu from time to time, but there isn’t really any need. Kraglin is usually there.

He’s been traversing the _Quadrant_ like a ghost, wandering between the mess and the control room and the med bay. He’s still on edge, so even though he’s exhausted, he can’t sleep. He ate some food as fast as he could shovel it down, and the quickest shower he’s ever taken – because he’s afraid that something still might happen, and he’s not going to be there when it does.

True, the ominous feeling is gone, and Yondu has been stable for the last several hours. But there’s still something hanging over his shoulders. It’s a shroud of his own making, and he doesn’t know how to get rid of it. It might never be gone, this heavy guilt. footsteps steer him back to the med bay, and leans against the doorway, eyes staring into the room but not really seeing anything; his thoughts seem jumbled and far away.

"Don't jus' stand there like a wraith, boy," Yondu's breathy voice rasps. The cot is slightly inclined so Yondu can sit up a little; the room is dark and his eyes glow like coals in the low light. 

Kraglin enters cautiously, still hardly daring to believe that his Captain is alive. "Jus' comin' to check on ya, sir," he says, fidgeting.

"Feel the same as twenty minutes ago," he says with a chuckle, then coughs violently, reaching to his side for the oxygen mask, which he presses over his nose and mouth, taking gulping breaths. Kraglin quickly comes to his side, ready to act if Yondu needs his help. But the Captain holds up a hand and shakes his head. "I'm -" he wheezes, "I'm fine. Damn vacuum." He settles back against the pillows, still clutching the mask in his hand. His eyes lock with Kraglin's for a few moments, and the First Mate doesn't move. Yondu points to the chair by his bedside. "Sit the hell down, dammit."

Kraglin jumps slightly and drops into the chair.

"Go ahead and say whatever ya have to say, boy. I can tell it's eatin' ya up. Ya gotta get it out before it devours ya."

Kraglin hangs his head, clasping and unclasping his hands. A tear streaks down the side of his face; he doesn't bother brushing it away. "I'm sorry," he says, voice strained. "The mutiny - the ship - the crew - it was all my fault. I'm so sorry, sir. If I hadn't opened my fool mouth, the  _Eclector_  woulda been fine. There were more space suits in the-"

"Woulda, coulda, shoulda," Yondu interrupts with a cough. He brings up the mask, but his breaths steady out before he has to use it. "I told ya before that the mutiny weren't yer fault. It was bound t'happen sooner or later, I could feel it comin'. The fault was mine only. I was the Captain, and I allowed -" He pauses to cough again, and this time, he needs the mask. He breathes in deeply for a few minutes, lying back against the pillows, eyes shut, after he's done. "Damn," he sighs. He turns to Kraglin again, voice quiet. "I allowed my - my _sentiment_ for Quill blind me to what was goin' on. All of Ego's other kids...they was killed. I couldn't let that happen to Quill. I was so focused on keepin' him safe that I let everything else slip away from me. Includin' you, boy," he adds softly. He rests the mask on his chest and extends a hand to Kraglin. The First Mate slips his hand into his grasp. The skin is dry, cracked and bandaged, but the grip is regaining its strength quickly. "Ya've always had my back, always been there fer me and I treated ya like shit."

Kraglin bites his lip and shakes his hanging head. "No ya didn't, Cap."

"Don'tcha argue with me, boy!  _I'm_  the Captain here, and I say that the mutiny and all that crap was my fault. Got it?" His chest rattles, and he breathes in slowly to fend off another cough. He wags a finger in Kraglin's face. "If I hear ya mention it again, I'm gonna hafta hurt ya. It’s over, it’s done with. Clear?"

"Yessir," Kraglin says, head still bowed. "But I'm sorry just the same."

"Dammit, I know ya are, boy,” Yondu says, in a voice gentler than Kraglin has ever heard him use. “The moment those words left yer mouth, I knew ya were sorry. I saw it in yer eyes." Yondu reaches a hand tentatively to brush the hair on the side of Kraglin’s head with his fingetips. "Ya've always been loyal, son. Ya’ve always been there fer me. So don't let this consume ya, I know ya didn't mean fer it to happen. If yer lookin' fer my forgiveness, ya have it. Ya always will."

"Cap'n-" Kraglin begins, teary-eyed.

"Now shut up, I'm tired."

Kraglin laughs lightly. "Yessir."

Yondu shifts down on the pillows and closes his eyes, hand resting over the breathing mask in case he needs it. Kraglin pulls the blanket up to Yondu's chest, then settles back in his chair and falls asleep by his Captain's side - right where he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I'm a sucker for happy endings and couldn't say goodbye to our favorite Ravager Captain. ;)


	30. Epilogue

_"Kraglin, sir!"_

Kraglin sits bolt upright in his bed, and turns to the side, smashing his elbow painfully on the dresser. "Shit!" He's still getting used to the new surroundings of the  _Eclector II_ ; everything feels backwards. He rolls to the other side of the bed, snatching his wrist communicator. "Jesper? Please tell me ya have good news."

_"Yes sir, we just received a beacon from the Cap'n's arrow, it's been activated. We're tracing it now."_

_Thank all the gods,_ he thinks with a sigh of relief. “Good work. I’m on my way.” With a click, Kraglin deactivates the wrist com and leaps out of bed, pulling on his jumpsuit. Yondu went off in the one of the small two-person ships, sans co-pilot, and he's been gone for almost a month. No one had any idea where the Captain went or why, and Kraglin has been fearing the worst may have happened. He's barely slept the entire month, but he's done his best to maintain a strong leadership role in front of the new crew. He contacted Peter a couple weeks ago, later regretting it after the younger man insists on calling him every day, at least twice. But he can’t hold it against the younger man - he knows Peter is worried. How can they not be, after what happened? Thankfully, they'd put a tracker in the Yaka arrow after fixing it after the battle with Ego, and this is the best hope he's had in month of finding his Captain.

As he splashes water on his face and combs it through his hair, he reflects briefly on the last six months. _Been a hell of a ride._ While Yondu had been toeing the line between life and death, Rocket had somehow gotten in contact the Captains Ogord. He’d threatened and pleaded with them to come and make peace with Yondu – or at least give him last rites. Surprisingly, the Ogords and the ninety-nine Clans (Stakar had not replaced Yondu’s clan with another) took Rocket’s words to heart.

Barely half a day after Yondu had woken up, Ravager ships began dropping out of hyperspace all around their vessel. Stakar himself boarded the _Quadrant_ and requested Yondu’s presence aboard the _Starhawk._ Kraglin and Peter had insisted on accompanying him; neither of them were about to let Yondu out of their sight. To this day, Kraglin still has no words for what transpired, no way to describe the emotions he felt as Stakar announced that Yondu’s exile had been unanimously lifted for his sacrificial act, and the Captain was welcomed back into the Ravager ranks.

It still seems so surreal. Stakar is a common face on the holoscreens now; Aleta, Charlie and Martinex too. And Peter, of course. Kraglin will have to contact him after he speaks to Jesper, tell him that he has word on the Captain’s location.

The First Mate strides through the  _Eclector II_ , Ravagers stepping out of his path as he makes his way to the control room. They’ve spent most of the last several months recruiting, and they have the makings of a promising crew, with a couple hundred on board already. Several of the leads have come through Yondu’s Ravager friends – they have referrals from both Charlie and Krugarr in the ranks, and there’s a stack of holopads in Kraglin’s quarters with more candidates to review. The Clans have helped in other ways too – Mainframe and Kraglin have spent a lot of time together, working on the ship. Though there’s still a lot of work to do on this vessel, it's bigger and sleeker than the old _Eclector_ , and Kraglin has enjoyed implementing new, cutting-edge systems with the android’s help.

As the First Mate climbs the stairs into the control room, Jesper, their teenage lead Nav, moves quickly aside to show Kraglin his screen. "It's coming from this system here, sir. See?"

Kraglin breathes a sigh, chuckling as he hangs his head in relief. "Of course."

"What? What is it?"

"He's on the third planet. The blue one with the single moon."

"How do you know?” Jesper asks with a confused glance at the screen. “We haven't pinpointed the planet yet."

"No, but the third planet in - it's Terra. He's there, trust me. Get us as close to the planet, make sure we're cloaked n' jammed so none of the Terrans – or anyone else – can locate us. Get yer nav team on this right away, get that signal narrowed down as much as ya can. And contact Luggh, Ryx and Nillgrac; tell 'em to get up here."

"Yessir!"

Kraglin stares out the main view port, staring at the streams of stars and space dust swirling past their ship.  _I'm comin' fer ya, Cap'n._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These events are continued in my other fic, "Vital: Part One - Terra" - specifically chapter 16, but recommend reading the entire thing. ;)
> 
> But wooow it’s been a journey, you guys! This has been some of the most fun I have ever had writing, and I’m really happy with how it’s turned out. Of course, the ride wouldn’t have been nearly as fun without all of you! Thank you so much for reading! I’m will continue writing Vital Part 2, and will be starting my GotG Western AU, "Dust and Lilies" in the next couple months.


End file.
